


The Clearing

by elo_elo



Series: The Woods [3]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heavy Angst, Humor, Hurt No Comfort, I AM NOT KIDDING ABOUT HEAVY ANGST, I promise, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Pining, Platonic Relationships, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Assault, The power of friendship, big time bad decisions, friendship is cool and good, grey area sex, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, lol, or well friend comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-07-09 16:57:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elo_elo/pseuds/elo_elo
Summary: Sebastian and Joni are devoted to each other, but when a surprise falls into Sebastian’s lap will the lure of a different future be too much for him? Left to her own devices, will Joni be able to manage her demons or will she fall back into old habits?This is a sequel to Way through the Woods, taking place directly after the last fic ends.





	1. Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> So should I just apologize right off the bat? I promise I plan for this series to have a happy ending. It’s just gonna be a minute lol.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cracks appear when Joni makes a decision about Elliot.

“I don’t understand” It’s the first thing Sebastian’s said since they sat down, but considering that Joni could almost hear the gears in his head turning, she’s surprised that’s all he has to say.

She drops the fry she was picking at back onto the plate and looks out of the diner’s big windows. It’s a brutal day. All sun, no clouds. So hot that the inside of the diner’s windows are slick with condensation. It’s noon, but the parking lot is nearly empty. Waves of heat rise from the asphalt, broken up only by the occasional semi that barrels down the highway beyond. Sebastian ordered them both burgers, but hers has gone cold, she’s barely touched the fries. “I’m not asking you to understand.”

Sebastian clenches his jaw, shifting in his seat. He starts to twiddle his thumbs and Joni can tell he’s trying to figure out how to word something, that he’s trying to distill all the agitation inside of him into something palatable. Their waitress whooshes past them, her apron brushes against the top of their blue linoleum table. There’s a thick layer of dust on every surface. This is the kind of place that has a jukebox in the corner, so old the music comes out a little distorted. The chintzy neon on the walls hurts Joni’s eyes. “He deserves to be punished.”

“I know.”

Sebastian looks up at her, eyes practically pleading. “So punish him.”

Joni averts her eyes. It’s the hottest day of the year and she’s _freezing._ She rubs her arms, stalling for time. “I can’t.” It comes out so small, so weak, she barely recognizes her own voice. Sebastian slides his hand over, threading their fingers together. She shrugs, trying to turn this casual. “I can’t face him.”

“I’ll be there. We’ll all be there.”

Joni pulls her hand from his. “I’ve made my decision.”

Sebastian sighs. “You deserve better than this. And he sure as fucking shit doesn’t deserve to be let off the hook.”

Joni stands, swinging her purse over her shoulder. The linoleum floor is sticky under her shoes. “I’ll be right back.”

Sebastian looks almost startled. “Where are you going?”

“I need to make a phone call.”

The payphone eats two of her quarters before she gets dial tone. The air is so muggy it’s hard to breathe. Each car that passes kicks up dust from the road that settles on her sweat-slick legs, dirtying her shoes. Joni feels grimy and not just because of the dirt. Fuck, it’s been such a long day. She leans heavily on the payphone’s metal siding and closes her eyes, trying to soothe the headache she’s had since the police station. All she wants to do is go home and soak in that big salt-scoured tub, sleep for days and days.

Leah answers on the first ring. Joni clears her throat, almost surprised at how quickly it’s connected. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Figured.” A beat of silence. “How did it go?”

Joni pinches the bridge of her nose. “Badly.”

She can hear Leah sighing on the other end of the line. “How badly?”

Joni tries not to remember how loud the clock in the precinct had been. How the investigator and the prosecutor had the same hard look, how they’d become just one man as she stared at them. “I feel like shit.” She wipes some snot away with the back of her hand. She’d cried in the bathroom at the police station, not wanting to cry in front of those two men or in front of Sebastian waiting worriedly in the parking lot. “I feel worse than I did before.” She sniffles. “I wish I could have just done this over the phone.”

“So you did it then? What you said you were going to?”

“Yeah.” Joni glances back over at the diner. She can see Sebastian through the glass, partially obscured by the glare from the sun. He’s lit a cigarette, watching her carefully. He raises his hand in a weak wave when he sees her looking. Joni turns her back to him. “Sebastian kind of freaked.”

Leah sighs. “I told you to tell him beforehand.”

“Why? So he could try to talk me out of it?

“I don’t think it would have hurt to hear another perspective. A perspective from someone who _loves_ you.”

Joni starts in on her thumbnail, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Do you know what the prosecutor told me?” Joni’s eyes dart side to side, like she’s expecting him to be there, waiting for her to say it. She lowers her voice, pressing the phone closer to her face. “Two years. That’s what he told me.”

“Two years what?”

“Max sentence for the charges.”

Leah’s silent, then loud all at once. “You have got to be shitting me. That can’t be right.”

“It’s right.”

“No way, that cannot be fucking right. He could have fucking killed you!”

“ _It’s right.”_

“Fuck,” Leah says on an exhale. “Fucking shit.”

“It’s not worth it. It’s just not fucking worth it. He might not even go away for that long. And right now he’s…” She glances around again, “out of my hair.” It’s true. Elliot had fled the night after the attack, not even clearing out his cabin. No one had heard a peep from or about him since. “I don’t want to provoke him, give him any reason to start thinking about me again. Dropping the charges was my only choice.”

“I get that, okay. It makes sense. And, for the record, I support whatever decision you make about all this, but…”

“But?”

“Listen, lately you’ve just seemed…”

Joni’s nose twitches. “What? Seemed what?”

“Have you lost weight?”

“What? What does that have to do w-“

“You just seem on edge. We’ve all noticed. Like maybe you aren’t taking care of yourself like you should right now. It’s okay to slow down. You’ve been through a lot.”

Joni feels a little nauseous, too exposed. She tries to deflect, not wanting to give the sick, sloshing feeling building in her stomach any more ground. “ _We?_ You and Sebastian have some kind of club meeting? Planning my intervention?”

“You are being _so_ dramatic. I think we all just want closure for you. We want you to feel safe.”

Joni looks up to see Sebastian ashing his cigarette on the diner’s front steps. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans and heads across the dirt parking lot toward the payphone. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll see you when we get back into town, okay?”

Leah sighs. “Yeah, yeah. Drive safe.”

Sebastian leans on the payphone, looking at her from under a few dark curls that have fallen into his eyes. “I’m sorry if I seemed upset.”

“Are you upset?”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m…processing.” He shakes his head, looking off-center. “I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

Sebastian kneads the sore spot at the base of her neck. She sighs, closing her eyes and leaning into the touch. “I’ll always worry about you.” He presses a chaste kiss just beside her nose. “I _love_ you.” She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat has always been so steady, so strong. It’s so familiar now. “Let’s get out of here, huh? We stick around for too much longer and we’re liable to get eaten.”

“By what?” Her voice is muffled by his shirt.

“Animals or locals, whatever gets us first.” Joni snorts, letting Sebastian take her hand and lead her back toward the car. Joni glances behind them. The payphone looks so lonely there on the side of the road. The diner too. Something is off, something is wrong. Panic grips her chest, sudden and unfiltered. It’s been happening so much more lately, this sudden, unexplained terror. She tightens her grip on Sebastian. _Everything is fine,_ she tells herself, _nothing bad is going to happen._ It’s a mantra in her head as she swings up into the truck. It’s only when Sebastian squeezes her thigh, glancing over at her, that she realizes she’s stopped breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading guys <3\. You all mean so much to me!


	2. Fracture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ghost of Sebastian’s ambitions has come back to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags lol 
> 
> Writing 8-bit has made me want to give Sebastian's character a lot more nuance. I want to play with the idea of being so afraid of something that you become irrational and impulsive no matter how much of a good person you usually are.

Joni’s over at Leah’s place when the call comes in and maybe that’s the universe trying to tell him something, trying to cut him some kind of break. He answers the phone almost absently, pen poised over paper to take a message. Sebastian’s been living at Joni’s place for a few months, but most of the calls are for her. So when he hears the familiar voice on the other line he nearly drops the phone, straightens up like a school boy.

He doesn’t remember her voice being this honeyed, this intimidatingly appealing, but hearing it slams him back to that beachside bar, the muscles of her stomach clenching under his fingers. He looks guiltily back at Goose, but the cat has wandered off to some other room, bored by Sebastian’s lack of attention. “How did you get this number?” It just comes out too dramatic for the phone call. He doesn’t mean to sound like that, like some guilty husband on the phone with his lover. He feels like a criminal.

She laughs. “Sweetheart, it’s on your website.”

Sebastian clears his throat and straightens up, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “Of course, I’m sorry. Most people just-“

“Use email? I’m sure. You do remember who I am, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Marianne Schushter.” Her tone makes him feel like a little boy.

“Yes, I remember.” He clears his throat again. His usual professional persona has fled the room and he’s desperately trying to rankle it back around him. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just hoping to have a chat.” Sebastian’s fingers twitch for a cigarette, but his pack is across the room on the tv stand and the cord won’t go that far. “You know, we’ve been tossing your name around a lot in our meetings lately.”

Sebastian’s chest tightens. “Oh yeah?” He’s starting to sweat.

“Yes, your presentation at the conference was very memorable.” If Sebastian closes his eyes, he can almost imagine where she is. Some scrubbed-down office full of windows, right in the middle of the city. Out past the dense rows of buildings, the bay spreads out sparkling along the horizon, boats bobbing in the harbor. He’d done a little research on the company after he returned from the conference last winter, found that it was on a tree-lined boulevard, down in a newly rebuilt area of town. Sebastian had mapped out all the restaurants nearby. He’d imagined himself heading down the street for lunch, brain buzzing with possibility, chock full of interesting problems. There were a few late night cafes on the same block and he could almost see himself stumbling in after a long day of work, such a regular that the barista didn’t need to even ask his order. His heart aches when he thinks about it. “We’ve had some turnover recently at the company.” Sebastian’s breath catches in his throat. “And we’ve got a new project on the horizon. A big one.” Sebastian feels light-headed. He keeps checking the door, half expecting Joni to walk through. And what if she did? Would it really be that bad, to tell her about all this? Would she really not understand? His brain is short-circuiting, the phone pressed hard against his cheek. “You are still interested in working in software development right, Mr. Kouris?”

“Sebastian.” He chokes out.” “Sebastian is fine. And y-yes, of course.” Goose wanders back into the room to rub up against Sebastian’s ankles and now his guilt has layers.

“I’m glad to hear that. You’re a very appealing candidate. Do you think you could come into the office for an interview within the next week?”

“Yes, yes!” He answers without even thinking.

“Sounds good. I’ll have someone call you from scheduling in the next few days. The interview would be mostly a formality. You’re our preferred candidate.” He hears her take a sip of something over the line. “The offer is conditional of course. We’d have to discuss specifics in person. And, of course, you’ll need to be living in Zuzu.”

Sebastian’s stomach drops. His eyes flutter closed, a headache threatening behind his temples. He knew this, of course, but to hear it is still somehow a shock. “I can’t work from home?” She chuckles. “I have a really incredible setup and-“

“That’s not how we like to operate. We would need you on-site. You’ll _want_ to be on site. But…” She clicks her tongue. “I understand if you’re not interested.”

“I’m interested!” His voice is louder than he meant it to be and he clears his throat for the third time, softening his voice. “I’m interested. I just, um…” The whole farmhouse smells suddenly like Joni, he can practically feel her arms around him. Yoba, he loves her, _fuck._ He can almost see her, bare-legged and laying on the couch, her hair spilling over the side. Their long nights together, her skin so soft and pliable under his fingers.

“Sebastian?”

“Sorry, yes. I’m interested, but, um, could I just have a day or two to think about it. It would be…complicated to move, I think.”

“You’re our preferred candidate, but you’re not our _only_ candidate. We would need to-“

“I can call you tomorrow morning with my answer. Does that work? Is that okay?”

Silence on the line. Marianne clears her throat. “That’s fine. I look forward to your answer.”

He writes the note in a frenzy, brushing Goose off him when he tries to climb up his leg. His brain is perfectly clear, forcibly clear. It’s a desperate, old coping mechanism. To go on autopilot, to shut down his mind entirely. _Mom needed some help at the house tonight. See you in the morning._ He chews the end of the pen, his free hand itching for a cigarette. _Love you._ His pen hovers over the pad. There’s so much more he should say, so much more he _needs_ to say. Sebastian shakes his head. He drops the pen on the table and turns on his heels. Without saying goodbye to Goose, Sebastian grabs his helmet from beside the front room. He leaves the farmhouse, eyes straight ahead, not looking back once.

“So…are you going to take it?”

Sebastian lights another cigarette and leans back in his old chair, feet up on his desk. “I don’t know.” He’d called Tim and his advice was exactly what he expected it to be. That’s probably why the fuck he called him. He just wants an echo chamber, just wants one kind of advice. He knows, just knows, that he wouldn’t be able to see Joni’s face like this, wouldn’t be able to tell her no and then he’d be here in this shithole forever, grow old in fucking Pelican Town, staying here until it’s too late. His nightmare. His fucking nightmare. He’d already gotten complacent, hadn’t he? Yoba, his heart hurts when he thinks like that. Just a terrible ache. Sebastian wants to run out of the house back to the farmhouse, back into Joni’s arms. He pushes the feelings aside, trying to numb out his mind. “I just don’t know.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Sebastian takes a long drag. He’s sitting in the dark, not even sure if his mom knows he’s back home. “I’m gonna sleep on it.”

“There’s nothing to sleep on! Dude, this is your fucking dream. This is your whole dream laid out on a fucking platter for you. I cannot _believe_ that you’re not packing your shit tonight!”

“Maybe I have a new dream.”

“Do you?” Does he? “Don’t take a shit on your future for a chick.”

“She’s not a _chick.”_ He swings his legs off his desk, leaning forward. “I love her. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her.”

“Yeah, I get that. But the feeling will pass if you give it enough time.”

Sebastian’s quiet for a long time. The old clock on his wall ticks loudly, the house creaking in the evening wind. His voice sounds broken when he speaks next, fingers shaking like it’s deep in winter. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys <3.


	3. Flimsy*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joni finds herself slipping into old frames of mind.

They fuck first thing in the morning, before the sun is even up, pretty much as soon as he comes through the door. Joni doesn’t have time for ‘where were you?’’s, doesn’t have time to ask how Robin is. Sebastian’s kissing her like he wants to eat her, kissing her like he might cry and that’s when Joni knows, can just _feel,_ that something horrible is happening. She grips his shoulders tightly, letting him walk her back into the bedroom, but her whole body has started to go numb. She can’t really remember the last time she’s had a real meal and when Sebastian lifts her onto the bed, she feels a little woozy. It dissipates in the time it takes him to crawl between her legs. He’s impatient when he pulls her panties down, so unlike himself. But she’s nothing like herself either. They don’t fit together now like they did even yesterday, the balance of the universe off just a fraction. Joni freezes. She felt like this in the weeks leading up to her suicide attempt. Just off-kilter, just a little unsteady.

Sebastian pauses too, looking up at her through thick strands of hair. “Should I stop?”

Joni squirms. Everything is too bright and the air around her has gone cold. “No, no.” He kisses the inside of one thigh and in that soft beat of silence between them, Joni can feel that his hands are trembling.

Joni rocks her hips toward him when he pulls her clit between his lips. It’s an instinct, a way to hide that all she really wants to do is cry. She wants to pull him off her, hold his face tightly in her hands and beg him, _beg him,_ to tell her what’s happening, to help her soothe the darkness churning inside of her. But instead she just lays back, hair splayed on her pillow, and lets him work. Sunlight spills across her naked body, birds calling softly through the window. Her chest is so tight that she has to pull air forcibly into her lungs and when Sebastian doubles down between her legs her exhale comes out raspy and harsh. He’s good, tender still, even though the whole house seems to be holding its breath. He grips her thighs tighter when she starts to cum, like he knows her so thoroughly he can tell when she’s teetering on the edge. When she cums it feels overwhelming, almost painful, like every nerve is firing off at once. She wriggles almost violently out of his grip, sitting up in bed. He crawls toward her, swiping his thumb along her lip. His eyes are so dark they reflect her back to herself. He kisses the corner of her mouth. “Are you okay?” His voice is barely a whisper.

“Yeah.” Joni’s panting, her bare stomach pulsing. He slides his hand up it. She reaches down between his legs, wrapping her fingers around his cock. Joni leans back, pulling him over her. “Yeah.”

When they fuck, it’s slower than it’s ever been, their bodies pressed tightly together. Joni lays her head on his shoulder, thankful that for once they aren’t looking each other in the eyes. Her legs slot easily above his hips, her body rocking back and forth with each shallow thrust. She digs her nails into the skin of his shoulders. He hisses, but doesn’t raise his head from the pillow. _We’re done for._ The thought rises up suddenly and she chases it away like a curse. She can’t clean off its residue. He’s so far away. He’s inside of her, devouring her, his hands all over her, and he’s so far away. “I love you,” she says and it’s a question.

Joni glances at the pad by the phone as she passes, Sebastian’s nightshirt hanging nearly to her knees. Two new orders. It’s more than she’s had in a while. It’s been a slow summer. Just a couple of weddings. She makes a mental note to call them both back that afternoon.

She sits on the toilet a long time, her muscles so tense that she can’t piss. Joni squirms a little on the seat, reaches over to turn the faucet on. It’s an old trick, one her mother used to use. She closes her eyes, willing her body to relax. She winces once she pees. It stings. She brings the toilet paper up and finds that it’s faintly pink in one spot. She drops it into the toilet, clutching her hands into fists. No, no, no, no, no. She looks up at the ceiling, hands clasped between her knees, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Sebastian’s big, bigger than most of the other guys she’s been with. Sometimes he’ll hit her the wrong way, and she’ll have them switch positions, but this time she hadn’t felt it at all. She’s never bled before with him. Joni scrapes her hair back with her fingers, her breath slow and shaky. “You’re okay.” She whispers. Her body doesn’t respond.

She stands, pulling his shirt down even further, wishing she’d put some panties on. Lately, she’s been feeling that familiar tug at the corners of her eyes. A coarse, tired mania that seeps deep into her bones. It’s like an echo, so easy to recognize. Joni splashes some water on her face and when she looks at herself in the mirror she nearly jumps backward. She looks so tired, so fucking tired. Joni leans heavily on the sink and closes her eyes. She’s trying to take inventory, to settles herself down. It’s not working, not well at least. When Sebastian calls from the front room, her eyes fly open, startled. She gives herself a long, steadying look in the mirror, then extracts herself from the sink, poking her head out of the bathroom. “What?”

“I just asked if you were okay. You’ve been in there a while.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Joni drums her fingers on the doorframe. “Are you okay?” He looks up from his computer and hesitates. “Are you okay?”

He purses his lips. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Good.” She hits her palm lightly against the doorframe, “that’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys <3.  
> I promise there are longer updates coming!


	4. Crash Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian makes a run for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm just gonna be apologizing for the next two sequels.
> 
> TW: vomit

It's like ripping off a band-aid. So fast you don't even flinch, so fast you don't even know what's happening. It's the most cowardly thing he's ever done and he does it without looking her in the eyes even once, keeps his gaze steady on one cheekbone. When he gets home she's out on the porch, coffee in one hand, the other scratching under Goose's ears. The sky is livid pink with the setting sun. It's a scene so familiar he knows it by heart. 

He doesn't even say hello, the dust barely settled around his bike when he starts in. "I got a job." She blinks at him. "In software development." 

Joni rises slowly to her feet, her mug abandoned half-empty on the top step. She's trying to catch his eyes, but he keeps them trained on the farmhouse's far window. "I mean, that's great. That's what you've always wanted, right?" Her tone is probing, curious and worried in equal measure. 

"It's in Zuzu." 

"Yeah, I figured, but-" 

"So I'm leaving." 

She falters, one foot on the second step. "What does that mean?" 

"It means I'm leaving." His hands are in almost painfully tight fists. He can't look at her, he still can't look at her.

"Like Pelican Town or..." 

"I have to do this." He grits it out, jaw tight. It's more for his benefit than hers, like he can rein in his warring feelings if he lays out a logical enough case.

"I...okay." He glances up at her. She's holding her breath, eyes trained sharply on him. He can't stand to look at her, not like this, and instead bores holes into the porch's bottom step. 

He's starting to quickly lose steam, shoulders slumping, that familiar shake settling back into his fingers. "I'm sorry, I..." 

"Are you breaking up with me?" It goes off like a bomb and all he can do is look pleadingly up at her. 

"I love you. I will love you for the rest of my life. I love you more than-" 

"You're breaking up with me." 

He swallows hard, the short distance between them suddenly cavernous. "Yes." 

She recoils from him, a single shock of movement like he's hit her. And then she settles and the transformation is unnerving. He sees her turn the lights out one by one in her body until the person standing in front of him is hard and cold and completely unrecognizable. She doesn't cry even though he can feel tears pricking the corners of his own eyes, just recedes back into herself. Sebastian wants to smooth her hair back and press her tightly to him and the sudden realization that he'll never touch her again is so painful he gasps. The regret boiling up inside of him is immediate and strong. "I still have to get an apartment. There's a lot I haven't figured out." It comes out so pathetic he can barely stand listening to himself. "I could...stay here. We could talk, figure things out together." For fuck's sake, why hadn't he opened with this? 

Joni's footsteps break him out of his thoughts. She's backing away from the steps. Her voice is like ice. He's never heard her voice like this. "Go stay at your mom's until you find a place." She turns on her heel and goes back into the house. The door slams so hard the windows shake and the air around him is suddenly so still it's hard to breathe. He might be sick, holy fuck, he might be sick right here on the driveway. Sebastian holds his stomach, bent over trying to catch his breath. She's knocked all the wind out of him. He wants to run up the steps and bang his fists on the door. He wants back in more than he's ever wanted anything in his entire life. But the lights are off and even Goose has turned away. 

When his dad died, Robin packed all his shit into boxes. It only took a few days and then every trace of him was gone. They’d stacked them up in the attic and whatever they couldn’t fit up there, or more accurately, whatever felt too warm, too alive, too close to the bone, went into the closet at the end of the house’s long hallway. And now, standing in front of it, backpack open and waiting, Sebastian has the sudden urge to just take it all. To just take it all and run, never to return to Pelican Town. And then another, just a strong, urge to climb inside the closet and never come out. He rolls his shoulders, trying to shake his body back to something resembling his own. He needs to take some piece of his, so he doesn’t feel like he’s walking out on him, abandoning him. He settles on a couple of his dad’s watches, pulling them roughly out of a small cardboard box on the top shelf. The movement unsettles a worn old notebook. Sebastian picks it up and flips through it. Addresses, phone numbers. Some in Greek, some from around town. Sebastian tosses it into his pack. He’s zipping the thing up when a shadow falls over the closet. Sebastian freezes, feeling all at once like a teenager sneaking out after dark.

For a man his size, Demetrius has always made the daintiest noises. The sound of him clearing his throat is so soft, but Sebastian is so tuned to it. He straightens up, holding his breath. “Everything alright, Seb?”

Sebastian swallows hard. “Joni and I broke up.”

Demetrius whistles. “Shit.” It’s a rare normal response from his stepdad, almost empathy and Sebastian’s heart hurts even more. What the fuck is he doing? Sebastian turns to face him and finds himself boxed in. Demetrius doesn’t really understand how much space he takes up, doesn’t really understand how he looks to others. Six foot ten with the shoulders of a goddamn linebacker, but he scurries around like a mouse, timid like a chihuahua and spacy as a teenage girl. Sebastian tries to duck around him, but Demetrius isn’t budging, lost in thought. “You know sometimes...” Demetrius sucks his lower lip into his mouth, the lines around his eyes deepening. “You know sometimes when people are in love…”

“I’m leaving.” Demetrius’ eyes widen, then he squints, waiting for Sebastian to elaborate. He doesn’t. Demetrius glances behind him, probably hoping he can conjure up Robin to handle this just with the sheer force of his will. “I’m moving to Zuzu.”

Demetrius slowly nods, always so measured, always so thoughtful. “Well, isn’t that nice. Why don’t we pack the truck in the morning? Your mom and I can drive you up this weekend.”

“I’m leaving tonight.” Sebastian manages to slip past Demetrius, hunched like a sullen teenager, and heads quickly down the hall toward the basement. “Tell mom I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Sebastian stops halfway to fill up, finds the most desolate little gas station on the side of the road and kills the engine on his bike. He smokes two cigarettes in the shadow of the rickety, old building, trying to settle his nerves. It works, mostly, until he slips into the dank bathroom on the side of the building. The urinal is caked in grime, the sink so rusty he doubts the faucet turns, and when he slides the lock shut darkness rises up like water. And in that thick, thick darkness, he starts to cry. And then he starts to sob, his chest heaving. He spits up in the dirty sink. He’s crying like a baby, like a dying man.

The city feels damp and about ten degrees colder when he arrives. The city is draped in blues. Flickering neon spills onto the street. His cheeks and hands are numb and he’s later than he told Tim he’d be over the phone. His nose is burning, the sharp scent of his own vomit the only thing he can smell. He grabs a six-pack at the little bodega on Tim’s street and the first thing he does when he gets to Tim’s shitty apartment is crack one open and down it in one, long pull. Tim whistles, shutting the door with his back. Sebastian toes his shoes off, feeling a little woozy. The grey, shag carpet is crunchy under his socks. Tim’s ancient window unit bangs around in the sill. Sirens roll past in a long wave. It smells thick and damp, like fucking and unwashed laundry and the burnt bits of weed left in a pipe. “Shit man.” Tim stalks around him, squinting up at his face. “You look like you got hit by a train.”

Sebastian wipes at his eyes with his palms, he works his jaw, trying to ease some of the tension in his muscles. “Where can I crash?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys <3


	5. Braids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are friends for?

“Get out of the tub.”

The water sloshes cold around Joni’s body. She’s tucked her head between her knees, knuckles white from the grip she’s got on her shins. “No.”

“Get the fuck out of this tub.” Joni can tell Leah’s been painting, can smell the resin and oil on her without even looking up. She shakes her head and Leah huffs. “If you don’t get the fuck out of this tub right now, I’m gonna drag you out and that is a goddamn promise.”

Joni lifts her head, water sloshing over the side and onto the tile floor. Snot’s stuck to her nostrils, her eyes swollen from crying. Then, suddenly, she remembers that she locked her front door and her eyes go a little wide. “Did you break into my house?”

Leah exhales. She’s got one hand on her hip, the other draped across her forehead. “Your front window was open.”

Joni’s laugh comes out a little hysterical. “You climbed in through my window?”

Leah puts both hands on her hips, worried energy wafting off her. “You’re lucky I didn’t break down your front door with the voicemail you left me.”

It’s the sudden jolt of a reminder, and a fresh wave of sadness rolls down Joni's body. Joni starts to cry again, hanging her head between her knees. She lifts her head up, wiping furiously at her cheeks. “Should I have seen this coming?”

Leah crouches down beside the tub. “He’s lost his mind.” She slips her hands under Joni’s armpits, hefting her up. “Come on get out of this tub. You’re gonna catch your death just sitting in cold water.” Joni shakes her off, but slips out of the tub like she asked. She accepts the towel Leah offers her and wraps it around her body. Joni sighs. She feels the same kind of unsteady she used to feel when she’d woken up from a nightmare. But she hasn’t slept, doesn’t even really know what time it is. Some evening light is filtering through the narrow window above the tub, but it’s the middle of summer and in the Valley the sun never really sets, just skims the horizon line. Leah rubs her hands up and down Joni’s arms. “We’re gonna go to my place, okay?”

Joni lifts her head to look at her. “What? Why?”

“Because you don’t need to be here right now. You need to be anywhere by here right now” Joni looks at her, her eyes wavering, and then she starts to cry.

Joni's on her second beer and Leah's still chopping the first onion. The thick froth churns in her empty stomach and she rests her head on her knees. The little cabin goes pleasantly wobbly. Her last meal was half a breakfast pastry who knows how many hours ago, picked up surreptitiously from Joja, and the booze is hitting her hard. The eating thing has become a problem lately, she knows that. Something that even Sebastian had quietly mentioned once or twice. Her clothes don't really fit so well anymore, jeans a little loose around the hips. She doesn't want to think about her hips or her clothes or Sebastian. She doesn't want to think about anything.

Joni can smell cooking onion and garlic and then the sharp scent of jalapeno. She closes her eyes, letting it envelop her. The rice cooker starts to bubble and its sort of milky, savory smell is so nice that it makes Joni want to cry. Crying is coming so easy tonight and soon she's sniffling again. When she looks up, wiping her face with the sleeve of the sweater Leah's let her borrow, Leah is looking at her, wooden spoon in hand, face so stricken it just makes Joni cry harder. "I just don't get it." It comes out so pathetic, like a long whine. 

Leah heads back into the kitchen. Joni can smell when the curry paste hits the hot oil and her stomach roars back to life, suddenly so ravenous she has to press her hand against it to try and settle it. "He probably doesn't even get it." 

"It can't just about the job right?" Joni finishes her second beer, resting her head on one hand. “It has to be about me. It has to be something I did.”

Leah sets a steaming bowl of rice down on the table. It glistens, slick with butter, dotted with flecks of cilantro. "Why can't it be about the job?" 

"Because...." Joni looks at her own reflection in the glass of the beer bottle, then shoves it away almost violently, "because I wouldn't have stopped him! He has to know that!" She holds her head in her hands, lowering her voice, "Did he really think I would stop him?" 

"It doesn't matter." Leah spoons some rice onto the plate in front of Joni, pours a heavy ladle of curry over it.

"It does!" 

"It doesn't." She sits down beside her, leveling her fork at her, "Because what's happened has happened, okay? You can torture yourself all night about what he was or wasn't thinking, but it doesn't change that he's not here. We’ll scream like banshees in the morning, but tonight we’re keeping our heads above water." 

Joni glances up at her. "Maybe I want to torture myself." 

Leah snorts, beer raised to her lips. "Yeah, that _does_ sound like you." She nods toward the plate. "Eat. You'll feel better." 

She can numb herself out in the dark. The moonlight filtering through Leah’s big window casts the whole cabin in pale blue. Joni shifts in her sleeping bag, turning so she can look out the window. Beyond the glass, there’s nothing. Even the dark mass of trees outside blend into the cold half-light from the moon. Even the steady hum of crickets has gone quiet. The blood pumping in her ears is the soft, steady rhythm of her heart and it stutters when any thoughts try to worm their way into her head. Joni’s whole face feels swollen, her eyes dry, but the numbness in her body is almost soothing. She’s the kind of hollowed-out that makes it easy to let all her feelings just drain out of her. She imagines a dark stain on Leah’s floor where all the pain and coarse love she’s feeling has just seeped into the floorboards. It’s good to be in Leah’s cabin, surrounded by the heavy scent of paint and shellac, and not in the farmhouse. That way she can imagine he’s still there, hunched over his computer, smiling blearily up at her as she pads past him. The fantasy doesn't really hold up to scrutiny, though. 

But fuck, he isn’t there, probably will never stand inside those four walls ever again and suddenly her pain develops layers, suddenly it becomes fear. The farmhouse is empty and that emptiness starts to swell with potential. And the part of her, that small, shameful part of her, that was using Sebastian as a shield, as a protector, starts to whimper. She sits up, scratching at her chest, trying to extricate the lonely feeling that’s roaring through her. She’s homesick. Homesick like the first night of college, homesick like summer camp. Homesick like the first time she came back to the apartment she’d lived in her entire life and all of her mom’s things were packed into boxes. It’s a feeling like desperation, like falling in midair, nothing to hold onto, nothing to cushion the blow of landing. And when the homesickness subsides, like a boat rolling over angry ocean, the terror returns. Elliot’s face has become almost monstrous in the few months since he put his hands on her. Every feature exaggerated, his hands enormous, his body wide as a wall. Joni gasps. Like people do when a plane hits chop, when a car takes the downward curve of a hill too fast. She glances over at Leah. She’s sound asleep on her cot, mouth open as she quietly snores, hair stuck to her face. Joni’s eyes sweep across the floor and land on the door. It’s so dark it looks almost like a hole in the wall. Did Leah lock it? The thought makes her heart jump and she rushes toward it, like she’s run out of time, like he’ll burst through if she doesn’t hold it shut.

She checks it twice, then yanks at the doorknob to make sure it’ll hold. The ritual doesn’t soothe her, if anything it just makes her chest feel tighter. Joni presses her forehead against the door and when she closes her eyes she can smell the faintest whiff of mint gum and there he is. She can see him so clearly, see every strand of his gingery hair, his wide row of perfect teeth glittering in the darkness. In her mind, he’s been running, running straight for her, and now his fists are pounding on the door and speaking slowly, almost softly, in that voice he’d used when he took her phone off the hook. It’s too much. Joni’s eyes fly open. Her breath is hot on the hand she has pressed against the door. She takes a few steps back, her heart settling back in her chest. Leah is still sound asleep, twitching a little as Goose settles down in between her knees. The air conditioning unit hums in the window. Elliot’s not there. And neither is Sebastian and relief and heartache rush up inside her. Joni holds her face in her hands, taking a few shuddering breaths. It’s been a while since he’s visited, since the image of him has been that clear, that violent and Joni can’t help but feel that, all this time, Sebastian had kept him at bay.

When she wakes up, Leah is painting. She’s cross-legged in front of a large canvas propped against the far wall, her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. Joni feels hungover, but she doesn’t remember drinking all that much. She’s sticky from the humidity coming through the open window and stiff from sleeping on the floor. The bright, yellow light streaming in through the bare windows tells her that it’s at least noon, that she’s slept the whole day away. The homesickness she feels when wakefulness settles all the way onto her is a little less sharp than it was last night and, Yoba, is she fucking thankful for that.

When Joni tries to roll over, a sharp pain pulses from her neck down into her shoulder. She groans and Leah looks up from her work. “You’re up.”

Joni kneads the heels of her hands into her eyes and rolls up to sit. “Seems like it.”

Leah shifts so they’re face to face and leans back on her palms. “So…” Joni winces. Just the idea of talking about this, about any of this and maybe Leah can tell because she keeps her tone light. “You wanna go back home?”

Joni rubs a sore spot at the base of her neck. “Not really, no.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing planned today.” She leans forward, scratching behind one of Goose’s ears. “So what do you want to do?”

The sun is a big yolk low in the sky, simmering orange as pale darkness rolls like a wave overtop. The hood of Leah’s car is still warm on their bare legs from the heat of the day. Joni leans her back against the windshield and takes a hard look out at the parking lot where they've ended up. The strip mall is kind of run-down, the sort of place that only teenagers like to hang out in and they are out in full force tonight. Joni passes her lit joint over to Leah. She takes a shallow puff and passes it back. Both of their fingers are slick with grease from the burgers they ordered. Behind them, the fast-food joint is bustling. Music blaring from speakers on its awning, fighting for dominance with the music pouring out of the cars around them. Leah nods toward her. “You didn’t finish your burger.” Joni glances at the rapidly cooling burger beside her, the wrapper wrinkled and soaked in grease. Her jaw feels wired shut. She just shrugs. A young couple passes in front of the car. They’re tangled up in each other, holding each other so tightly they can barely walk straight. Joni turns away. Leah clears her throat. “Why don’t we pick something up from Blockbuster, huh? Something we can put on in the background." 

Joni frowns. "I don't know if I want to watch a movie." 

Leah cocks her head at her. "Why not?" 

Joni rests her head on her knees, trying to blot out the young couple that has woven their way back into her line of sight. "Because everything reminds me of him." 

She can hear Leah sigh and then feels her scoot across the hood of her car and drape her arms over Joni's shoulders. Joni leans in, wrapping her arms around Leah's waist. "Why don't we just get some beer then? Some of that nice, sour microbrew shit Emily is always talking about." 

Joni squeezes Leah's arms, breathing in the warm, comforting smell of her. The big yolk of the sun dips below the trees and the starry darkness swoops over them like the sky has let out a breath it was holding. 

Joni had forgotten that Shane was supposed to come over the next morning. She'd forgotten more than that if the blinking light on her machine is any indication. She can see the red light it casts through the window and she's so focused on it that she, at first, doesn't notice that he's sitting patiently on the porch's bottom step. He smiles brightly at her when she comes into view, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. "Heyo! Still up for working in the greenhouse?" 

"Yes, god, sorry. I forgot completely." Joni kneads her fingers into her neck muscles. When she looks up at Shane, his smile has faltered a little, something close to tenderness passing over his face. Here, in the bright afternoon sunlight, it's like she's seeing him for the first time. And maybe she really is. He's changed so much. All the extra weight he'd been carrying is gone, replaced with a muscular bulk that she hadn't noticed before. He's cut his hair close to his scalp. It accentuates his newly sharp features, his usual 5-o-clock shadow now peppering a hard, chiseled jaw. He's been out helping her work all summer, been doing stuff down at Marnie's too with the chickens, and it's left him deeply bronzed. Joni's stomach tightens and she suddenly wishes she'd taken a shower over at Leah's place. It's a strange feeling, one encased in grief, but manically bright. She runs her fingers over her sternum, like she might be able to gently coax the feeling out. 

When Shane smiles again, his whole face lights up. "It's all good." He looks out at the farm. "It's been a beautiful day. Didn't mind waiting." He stands and claps her gently on the shoulder. She ducks away from him, sure it's obvious that she's spent the last two days crying. She doesn't want his sympathy, or his worry. 

She unlocks the wooden box beside the mailbox to retrieve their gardening gloves and trowels. Goose is coming up the path, back from his jaunt off into the salmonberry bushes, and Joni hears Shane coo at him. It's too much. She stands and almost roughly hands Shane his trowel. "How long have you been out here?" 

He shrugs. "Not that long." 

A few fat, fuzzy bees bob lazily over the planters as they work. The air is thick was moisture, so hot its steaming, but it isn't unpleasant, just settles on their skin until they shimmer like the verdant leaves all around them. Sunlight filters softly through the greenhouse's frosted glass. Shane is diligently at work, humming quietly as he tends to the flowerbeds. He told her once that the greenhouse was like a whole other world, a utopia, and he treats it as reverently as if it were a church. He's been vital in all this. 

Today, though, they're out of their routine. They haven't been speaking beyond little niceties and quick updates on the state of the flowers, but Joni can feel a nervous tension building between them and finally, she can't stand it. She sighs, setting her trowel roughly in the soil. "So, you heard right?" 

Shane pauses, looking up from a large planter of gladiolas. He shrugs, getting back to work. "It's a small town." 

Joni deflates, but it's almost a relief. "Thanks for not mentioning it."

Shane chuckles. "Wouldn't dare." 

She sighs, sitting back on her haunches. "So, is this the part where I ask you for some kind of insight and you tell me how to get him back?" 

Shane frowns, still bent over the flowers. "You want him back?" 

Joni's heart pulses. "Yeah." 

Shane pauses again, shaking his head. "I don't have any insight into the guy." They make eye contact. Shane's got this look in his eye that Joni can't read. "But he's a fool, that much I know. Only a fool would let a girl like you go." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading <3


	6. Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joni’s trauma might be deeper than she originally thought and she’s fresh out of coping mechanisms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack, implied sexual violence, PTSD

The dream overtakes her in the earliest hours of the morning and even though she knows it’s a dream, it holds her tightly hostage. Joni knows immediately where she is. The apartment is as familiar as her own hand and a chill settles in her chest. She is two of herself, young and old, half in, half out of the dream. The apartment is so warm, so full of memories, that it calls to her. Joni settles into herself, lets the dream wash over her. And suddenly she’s lighter and smaller and so full of fear. The dream is edged with memory, too real, too close to the surface.

The couch is scratchy against her bare legs, a little worn on the edges. Her legs don’t reach the floor, her heels beating against the couch cushions. The cartoons playing on the little tv are a blur of faded color, upbeat noise, but Joni isn’t watching them. She’s staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused, trying not to listen to the sounds coming from the laundry room, a steady thump. _When was this?_ Joni tries to remember. The dream tells her it’s spring, the knowledge slips easily into her brain and it must be the last spring she spent with her mother because the apartment has the kind of clean, airy lightness that died when she did.

Joni can hear the sound of jeans zipping up, it’s louder and slower than it should be, stuck in the thick air of warped time. A man grunts behind her. She can remember his face only in outline, his features blurry and vague. A neighbor? Maybe. Joni can’t remember why he’s here, just knows that he’s not supposed to be and that his arrival has disrupted the apartment’s steady ecosystem. She faces straight ahead, tendons in her neck so tight it’s hard to swallow. Sometimes, at night, Joni is sure there is someone in her closet. No amount of reassurance from either parent has convinced her otherwise. But even in her surety, or maybe because of her surety, she could never bring herself to look, will lay in bed for hours, breathing hot under the covers she’s pulled all the way above her head. She can’t bear to look. Now, it’s the same. She doesn’t want to see what’s behind her. The sounds are enough. Pieces of a whole she’s too young to understand, but the emotions, the darkness, those translate easily. 

Their front door closes with a soft click and, from the corner of her eye, she sees the man pass in front of their big window, down the hall. A door opens in the distance. Joni flinches when it slams shut. Yes, he’s a neighbor. She remembers that now for sure. With a soft swish of fabric, her mother sits down beside her. Joni holds her breath. She doesn’t look at her at first, feeling very much like she doesn’t want to see. But when her mother says nothing, her soft, ragged breathing nearly drowned out by the noise from the tv, Joni risks a glance in her direction. Her mother’s hair is stuck to her neck, the scattered braids Joni watched her do this morning have been loosened. The gossamer dress she wears so often looks like all of it is just a few inches off-center, and the fabric is bunched where the front buttons have been put through the wrong holes. Her mother sits silently, staring at the tv, eyes glossy and unfocused as a porcelain doll. Joni squirms. Quietly, just barely any noise at all, her mother starts to cry. 

Joni wakes with a gasp. She’s slick with sweat, tangled tightly in her covers. Now that Sebastian’s gone, she can’t stand to have the fans running at night. They’re too noisy and she needs to hear every creak, every errant noise. She won’t be taken by surprise. Not ever again. She hasn’t been sleeping much.

Joni untangles herself from her blankets. She’s left a dark stain on her sheets and the room is thick with the smell of her sweat. She thinks, vaguely, that this what fear must smell like. Joni shivers. The farmhouse feels suddenly enormous, so full of places to hide. There’s a monster in her closet and the monster has a name and a face and the kind of teeth some orthodontist somewhere slaved over. The monster is writing a novel. Inside her, the impulse to run through the house searching wars with the strong desire to hide under her covers. The floorboards creak and her eyes fly open. She waits, holding her breath. The sound isn’t repeated and when she’s waited long enough to be at least mostly sure that she’s alone in the house, she exhales. Her brain unhelpfully conjures up the image of Elliot, stone still in one place on the floor, eyes boring into her bedroom door. Her chest pulses. She doesn’t want to be alone.

Joni closes her eyes and slides one hand across the sheets, over to the side that for so long had been Sebastian’s. Her stomach drops when she finds it empty even though she knows, she fucking _knows,_ that he’s gone. Maybe hearing his voice would help. He’d take the call right? He’d told her that he loved her, he told her that he would _love her for the rest of his life._ She pulls a blanket over her shoulders, chilled even in the heat.

Crystalline light filters through the windows. She keeps them shut now, afraid of all the ways someone could pry them open, could slip inside. The air is still and hot but the light is wintry, cool and lonely. She takes a long, steadying breath, her hand lingering over the phone. It won’t need to be a long conversation, maybe even something practical like ‘hey, you left such and such here’, ‘hey do you think you’ll be back around to pick up such and such anytime soon?’ Yeah, that’ll work. _You don’t know his new number._ She doesn’t have to sound desperate, doesn’t need to make this weird. _Wait._ Her heart drops. She can almost hear it clatter, can almost see it roll along the floor. The number she used to call, the number she can recite from memory, will only ring in an empty room. Joni pulls her hand away, clutches it to her chest. All the fine hairs on her neck stand up, all at once. And then she starts to panic. A rush of terror rips across her body. She has to steady herself on the table, breathing hard through her nose. She needs to be paying attention, needs to make sure that no one else is in the house, that _he_ isn’t in the house. But she can’t, not with her head spinning, not with her chest so tight and heavy. Fuck, _fuck._ The room comes into sudden focus, so clear it’s almost violent. She starts to shake, wiping furiously at her cheeks.

The kitchen light flickers when she flips it on. She pads toward the sink, resting all her weight on the sides of it. The room is so quiet her breath seems unnaturally loud. Suddenly, on impulse, Joni checks the cabinets under the sink. She kicks her bare feet into the shadows, trying to flush out whatever she can’t see. There’s nothing inside but expired bottles of cleaner and a few old rags, but her heart is still pounding. She hurries out into the front room and repeats the pattern. She looks under the couch, kicks around in the closet. Goose is asleep on top of the tv, so unbothered that she checks to make sure he’s still breathing. “Fuck.” She scrapes her fingers through her hair. Her chest is rattling, the room gone hazy around her, the smudged, blurry lines of a watercolor. She stumbles into the bathroom, flicking the light on and pulling the shower curtain back almost violently. The empty tub makes her feel some kind of indescribable way and she quickly turns her back on it. She runs the sink just the hear the soft, rushing noise of it, then splashes some cool water on her face. God, she needs some sleep. _God,_ she needs some fucking sleep.

When Joni passes the front door on her way back to her bedroom, a twinge just behind her eyes slows her to a stop. She looks hard at the lock, like it might tell her something, like it might be able to reassure her. She checks its hold, jigging the doorknob. She looks hard at the lock again. _The door is locked._ She can see him walking in that night, see his even pace, the way he looked curiously around her front room. She jiggles the doorknob again, this time harder, like she’s trying to force it open. It holds. _The door is locked._ She takes another deep breath, then turns back toward the bedroom. She doesn’t get very far, turning to look back at the door. No matter how many times she tells herself it’s locked, the twinge behind her eyes refuses to dissipate. She huffs and heads to the couch. Joni slides down the back of it, wrapping her arms around her knees. She stares at the door, she stares at the door until the first rays of morning filter through her windows.

There’s a special kind of desperation that makes her call this number. She aborts it twice, only to come back, dialing it from heart. It nearly goes to voice message and Joni’s heart sinks, sure he isn’t going to pick up. On the last ring, he does. “Fucking Yoba, hello?” He sounds half asleep. Joni glances out the front window. The sun is just now rising above the tree line, the sky the clean color of early morning.

“Hey, dad.”

He immediately sounds more awake. “Joni, holy shit. Has something happened?”

“No. Uh, no. I just…called to talk.” She glances furtively around and lowers her voice. “Are you busy?”

He laughs and Joni hates that laugh. He uses it for everything. For sadness, for anger, but almost never because he’s happy. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“It’s seven am, dad. People are up at this hour.”

“Well, not me. Your dad’s getting old, kiddo.”

Joni slides down onto the floor, cross-legged, her forehead resting against one leg of the table. The phone cord is wrapped around her arm like a snake. “It’s been a while since we talked.”

He laughs again, this time louder. “You’re young! You don’t need to waste time talking to your old man.”

She slumps, unsure now why she even thought to call him. Maybe she thought she could tell him about the dream. He’d probably love that, probably go on and on about the esoteric power of dreams, but now it feels like something both sacred and silly. Like something she shouldn’t share. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“Do you need some money or something?”

Joni frowns. “No. Just called the talk.”

She can hear him rummaging around, hear the distraction in his voice already. “What about?”

A whole world of things are bursting behind her lips. She could talk for hours to him about what he doesn’t know, what he _should_ you. She swallows them all down. “Oh, nothing really, I guess.” A beat. “Maybe you could come down and visit sometime. See how the farm’s doing.”

“That sounds nice. I’ll have to let you know.” He clears his throat. “Now, I’ve got to get going. You take care of yourself. Love you, kiddo.”

The line clicks. “Love you too.”

The manic energy smashing around inside of her doesn’t dissipate. If anything, the conversation with her dad has made her more anxious. Joni heads back into the kitchen, feeling the sort of vague nausea that comes with long nights of no sleep. The stale, cold air of the fridge feels nice on her bare legs and Joni roots around for something to eat. She hasn’t cleaned out Sebastian’s shit yet and some of it has gone rancid. She shoves it aside.

Sebastian was an adult in so many ways Joni could barely fathom. All the things he could cook just right off the top of his head, the way he planned his meals, the way he ate dinner at the same time nearly every night. She’d started doing that too, sidling up to him as he browned garlic in a pan, resting her head against the strong muscles of his arm. Her ex told her once that she was like a stray little planet, falling into whatever orbit would have her. It was the most poetic thing he’d ever said, and now, as she stares at her almost empty fridge, she feels cut loose, totally adrift. Hell. Enough of this shit. She reaches into the very back of the fridge and wrestles a beer from its plastic yoke. The sound it makes when she cracks it open makes her flinch and the first sip is flat. It tastes like shit. She thinks suddenly, _weirdly,_ of Sarah. Yoba, it’s been nearly a full calendar year since she’s even crossed Joni’s mind. Fuck, Sarah used to get so oxied out after breakups. Scary shit, really. Joni would come to her apartment and find her practically comatose, slurring and crying, her trash so full of bottles of wine that it clinked anytime you moved it. The thought disgusts her and she pours the beer quickly down the sink. This isn’t going to work.

Almost on autopilot, Joni heads into the bedroom, making a beeline for her dresser. The card she’s looking for has been folded so many times, left to rot in the bottom of so many backpacks and purses, that the number is nearly rubbed off.

Joni drums her fingers on the table as it rings, feeling a little like she’s been hijacked. When the woman answers she nearly jumps. “Dr. Rainier’s office. How can I help you?”

Joni swallows. “Um, hi. I was, um, briefly a patient of Dr. Rainiers. At um,” she lowers her voice, almost to a whisper, “Harbor View Hospital.”

The receptionist doesn’t lose her chirpy tone. “Oh sure, alright. Can I get your name.”

She clears her throat. “Joni Seydoux.”

A few clicks. “Date of birth?”

“Um, February 23rd, 1968.”

“Yep. We’ve got you in our system. What can I do for you?”

“I, um, well I was discharged, um, about a year ago. Maybe more. So I’ve, um, never seen Dr. Rainier in her office.” She pauses, trying to sound like less of a head case. “But she gave me her card and, uh, told I could call about, um…” Joni trails off, seriously considers just hanging up.

“Dr. Rainier is actually between appointments right now. I’m sure she could spare a few minutes if you’d like to speak with her.”

“Sure, yeah, thank you.” Joni scratches at her collarbone, eyes darting around her front room.

“Joni, hello.”

Joni’s eyes flutter closed when she hears her voice. She can smell the clean, clinical, barren scent of the hospital. Can feel the too-bright sunlight drifting over her skin from the big windows in the office they used for sessions. “Dr. Rainier, hi. I’m not sure if you remember me, I-“

“I remember you, Joni. How are you?”

Joni swallows hard, clutching the phone cord in her fist. “I’m, um, I’m not doing so well right now actually.”

“Okay.” A beat of silence. “Would you like to talk about that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys <3 <3 <3


	7. Bittersweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or maybe just bitter.

Joni would like this place. It’s the first thought he has. His buddies have cleared out, the big furniture is mostly arranged, the door is shut and he’s alone amongst the hardwood and the chrome. The apartment's walls are so thick he can’t even hear the traffic below.

Sebastian heads to the windows. They take up one whole wall of the living room, bathing the apartment in an almost eerie, neon glow. It's like a movie, he thinks, as he watches rivers of cars snake below his feet. The whole apartment is like a movie, really. It's sleek, metallic. Minimalist. If it were a set, the movie would probably be a thriller. The scenes cast in blue. Or maybe that edge of dread is coming from him.

The apartment is a physical reminder of his sudden change in income, of his suddenly very different life. It's the kind of place that would drive his mother crazy. She'd call it sterile, but he thinks it's the blankest canvas he's ever stepped inside. Doesn't yet know if that's for better or worse. It's uncanny now that he's here, the truest manifestation of an old dream. 

The second thought he has, sitting among the dense maze of cardboard boxes, reflected three-fold in windows, is how warm Joni would look in front of them. How the rising sun would trace along the slender curves of her body, how it would rim her in gold. His lungs are filled with cement. Breathing is too much. 

She haunts him with each step he takes, each box he tries to unpack. His eyes keep drifting back to the windows, his mind drifting back toward her. He was always enamored with her indoor plants and, when he moved in, learned just how much she babied them. The light in the farmhouse was never quite right, the windows too narrow and seemingly randomly scattered along the walls. She'd have to cycle her plants out, dragging their heavy pots in front of the eastern facing window when they’d start to look a little anemic. Sebastian used to watch her scurry around, sipping his coffee, ignoring his work. Once he pulled her onto his lap, kissing down her neck. Once they fucked on the floor, soil under her fingernails, the window blanketing their bodies in sunlight. 

Here she would have so much light, so much space. She could grow whatever she wanted in front of these windows and he can imagine it, imagine Goose batting at their verdant leaves. And then, suddenly, she's there. His mind conjures her in startling detail. She's in one of his shirts. It's bunched up above one hip, revealing the smooth skin of her ass, clad in the kind of high-waisted, simple underwear she wears on her period. He likes that best, the way it makes him feel close to her, like she trusts him with all her intimate things. Her long legs are backlit by the city. He imagines running his hand up her neck, closing his fingers against her scalp and pulling her back into a kiss. It's a dreamy, hazy vision. As cozy as it is erotic, heartbreaking in how easy and familiar it feels. Sometimes, when she was about to cum, he would snake his hand up to hold hers. And sometimes, when they laced their fingers together, that would bring her over the edge. She was most beautiful when she came, because her moan would turn into a smile, face wracked with unbridled joy.

Sebastian doesn't realize he's crying until the tears start rolling off his chin, but once he does, he can't stop. He slides down the window, his back to the city, and holds his head in his hands. He is sick with longing. He cries like a little boy, head thrown back, mouth open.

He does that for almost two days. The liminal space between the first day at his new place and the first day at his new job suddenly an inescapable, uncrossable amount of time. He orders a pizza, marveling only a little when it arrives at his front door. Amazing that he can order a pizza, that he can choose between more than one restaurant. It’s a bit of a moment, actually, as he tacks the menu up on his refrigerator. He did it. He actually did it. And then the feeling dissolves and all he can think about is whether or not Joni’s ever eaten at this place before. And then he’s crying again. He eats the pizza in fits. Not tasting it at all. 

Early in the evening on the third day, Tim, maybe sensing that Sebastian’s actively crumbling, calls the apartment. Sebastian lets it go to voicemail, lying flat on his couch, staring up at the paint on the ceiling. “Pick up you fucking prick.” Tim says after the beep.

The phone immediately rings again and, with a groan, Sebastian rises off the couch to answer it. “Hey.”

“Goddamn, you sound like shit.”

Sebastian sighs. He’s had all the lights out for days and wonders vaguely how he must look. Like a ghost. Like fucking nosferatu. “Thanks, nice to talk to you too.”

Tim chuckles. “You done unpacking?”

Sebastian glances around the living room. He’s only unpacked a water glass and some clean underwear. Hasn’t even bothered to try and find his toothbrush. “Yeah, mostly.”

“My man, you seriously sound like fucking dog shit.”

Sebastian rubs his neck, it’s tight like a vice. “Do I?”

“Hundred percent and we can’t have that. Come have a drink with me, sad boy.”

It’s the kind of shitty, dark bar that immediately makes Sebastian feel better. He’d taken a shower, put on some clean clothes, and managed to find his way on the train, so he’s feeling a little less like a corpse. Tim’s beside him, looking like a bulldog, stuffed into a leather jacket that strains against the muscles of his arms. The place is tucked into an alleyway in a shit part of town and when they head in through the front door, a thick cloud of smoke wafts over them. Their voices barely carry over the sound of pool and soft rock playing from a radio set a little crooked on the chipped, dusty bar. Tim nods to the bartender and the two of them head to a table in the shadowiest corner.

They’re on their second beer when the real conversation starts and Sebastian is powerless to stop it even though he can see it coming from a mile off. “I can see why you moved as fast as you did with her.” Tim leans back, cracking his neck, and Sebastian nearly snarls. “It’s a small town. That’s how shit goes down in places like that right?”

Sebastian lights a cigarette, trying to soothe his temper. “I don’t think it was like that.” He looks out at the bar, at the people milling about. A few girls are dancing near the radio, shaking their hips and singing at each other. Sebastian averts his eyes. “I think we would have moved that fast anywhere. I mean you met her.”

Tim shrugs. “She was pretty.”

Sebastian laughs bitterly, taking a long drag, letting the smoke roll from his lips. “I wish people would stop saying that.”

“What? You don’t think she’s pretty?”

Sebastian levels with him with an intensity that makes Tim flinch. “I think she’s _beautiful._ ” He looks away. “But she’s a lot more than that.”

Tim shakes his head, running his tongue over his lower lip. “You sound fucking nuts.”

“I love her.”

“Still?”

“I think I’ll always love her.”

Tim frowns. Sebastian can tell that he’s trying to figure out what the fuck to say. It’s a rare moment of consideration from his friend and Sebastian figures he must be looking really, really rough if Tim’s that worried about it. Apparently decided, Tim shrugs and drains his beer. “Yeah, I mean don’t know if I got the full effect really. First time I met her she was only a few weeks out from that fucking nut job laying into her.”

Sebastian flinches. “Don’t talk about that.”

“Shit, man, sorry. I’m just trying to rememb-“

“I said don’t fucking talk about that.” It still feels so fresh, so fucking raw. She’d been so tiny on the hospital bed. Black and fucking blue, beaten to a goddamn pulp. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen. And now he’s left her alone with it. He doesn’t want to think about it and takes a long drink of his beer.

Tim taps ash off the end of his cigarette. “Ease up, huh? Don’t be so fucking aggro.”

Sebastian wipes his face with one palm. “Sorry man.” He frowns. “I should be there. With her. I should be back there.”

Tim groans. “Stop that shit right now.”

“No, the way I left, man, it was fucking brutal. It was fucking unforgivable.”

“Breakups aren’t nice, dude.”

“She’s the love of my life.”

Time freezes. “You really think that?”

“I _know_ that.” He makes a strangled sound and turns away, terrified that he’ll start crying right here in the middle of this bar. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” It comes out soft and pleading.

Tim taps his fingers hard against the table. “Hold the fuck up. You know exactly what you’re doing, man. Look at your place! Look at your fucking _job.”_ Tim points two fingers at Sebastian, cigarette burning between them. “ _You_ are living the dream.” He leans back, shaking his head, reaching for his beer. “And as far as Joni goes. It didn’t work. That happens. It sucks, but it happens. And it’ll be okay.”

But it doesn’t feel okay. None of it does. Sebastian ashes his cigarette. He’s about to fucking burst. He can’t be here anymore. “Listen, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

Tim groans. “Come on, man, don’t get all sensitive.”

“I gotta go. Thanks for the drink.”

“I love you,” he says and hopes he doesn’t sound too drunk. “I love you so much, Yoba, I love you so much,” he says and hopes she won’t be able to tell that he is crying. He is practically collapsed over his table, his hair falling over his face. “I’m so sorry, _god,_ I’ve never been so sorry in my whole life. I’ve ruined everything good that I’ve ever had. Fuck, _fuck,_ I’m just so sorry.” He doesn’t remember what else he says, just rambles along growing more and more distraught as the message goes on. He doesn’t even know how long the damn thing is. When the tone finally sounds, he sets the phone off the hook, and lets himself slip slowly down onto the ground. He wonders where she is right now, if she’s home, listening to his voicemail, or out at the Saloon. He wonders with a jolt if she’s with someone. His mind conjures up an image of Shane fucking Joni against the couch, her hair spilling over the back, mouth open as she cums. She looks right at him. Sebastian kneads his jaw, groaning. He is filled to the brim with fucked up emotions. Grief and homesickness and bright anger, mostly at himself. She has every right to fuck Shane now. She can fuck the whole world and he has no right to feel any kind of way about it at all. It hurts like an open wound.

Sebastian puts the phone back into the receiver and gets to his feet. He breathes hard through his mouth. He should sleep. He should unpack, go back groceries. He should start to try and live the life he shattered his heart for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate name of this sequel is Anatomy of a Big Bummer. Thanks for sticking with me guys <3.


	8. Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is still torn between two worlds, but an encounter with his boss leaves him reeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn’t think I’d let you all off the hook that easy did you ;) 
> 
> TW: graphic depictions of suicide, dub-con (nothing intense, just sort of uncomfortable, gray area sex)

He shouldn’t have expected her to call back. But he did. Yoba, he did. Like maybe she would be able to breeze past the way he’d pulled the foundation out from under her. Like she’d just forget the way he’d discarded her to bulldoze his way out of Pelican Town. _What an absolute prick you are, Sebastian Kouris._ Joni doesn’t owe him shit.

When he gets home from work that evening, he finds no missed calls and no voicemails and dread settles into his chest. Sebastian sets his bag of groceries down on his shiny kitchen counter and tries to sort himself out. He’d woken up early that morning, unpacked as much as he could, full of manic energy. His first day at work had been overwhelming, a minefield of emotions, but it had kept him busy. The train ride home had been another story entirely, too much space for his thoughts to run wild, and now, alone in his kitchen, he can barely stay still. He puts his groceries away, trying to keep his heart from racing, then heads back into the living room. He almost expects to find the red light blinking on his phone. He almost expects to hear her voice on the message. Sebastian scrapes his hair back with his fingers, takes a single, steadying breath, then picks up the phone.

Joni doesn’t answer his second call either and the dread turns into out and out fear. He weighs the phone in his hand. The apartment feels dark again, cold even though it’s still summer. He’s never had central air before, so used to the loud hum of window units and attic fans, that the cool, quiet of it makes him feel a little like he’s living inside a fish tank. Sebastian calls again. No answer and now he’s feeling like a creep. Like the ex-boyfriend who can’t take a fucking hint. Maybe she thinks this is some kind of booty call. Hell. He takes a deep breath, but he can’t manage to calm himself down. Holy Yoba, he just wants to hear her voice. Even if she’s screaming at him over the phone, he just wants to hear her voice.

The silence is deafening and then, all at once, frightening. What if she’s not mad at him? Or at least not mad enough to screen his calls. What if something’s happened? Sebastian starts to pace. Where is Elliot anyway? Not in jail where he should be, that’s for goddamn sure. Joni never talked much about the finer details of that night, but Sebastian’s imagined it plenty and now he’s imagining it all over again. Elliot waiting in the front room as Joni comes out of the shower, Elliot crouched underneath her bedroom window, fingers fiddling with the button on his pants. “You’re being irrational.” He tells himself firmly. And that’s probably true. Hell, Elliot would have to be a grade-A psycho to come back to Pelican Town after the way the town reacted and Sebastian figures he’s a creep, but not a dumbass.

Sebastian settles on his couch, arms spanning the back of it. When he’s sitting, he can see some of the harbor out his windows, a narrow corridor of a view boxed in by a tall office building to the left and another apartment complex, equally as reflective as his own, on the right. Freighters bob like little fireflies out in the dark water. Sebastian lights a cigarette and another, much darker, train of thought passes through him. He imagines blood on the farmhouse’s bathroom tile, pale and watery as it seeps out onto the hardwood in the hall. He can see her lying in the tub, half-submerged in pale pink water, her fingers blue and lifeless, crimson dripping steadily from her fingertips. Sebastian digs the heels of his hand into his eyes to try and force the thoughts from his head, but they move of their own accord, steady and unyielding. Shane hanging red-faced from the rafters easily becomes Joni, her long legs swinging in slow circles, toes skimming the ground, ankles twitching as her last breath rattles in her lungs. In the vision, Goose yowls from the tv stand, a mournful wail. Sebastian rocks forward, his head heavy in his hands. Yoba, he hasn’t been this on edge since high school, this out of control of his emotions since, hell, forever. He can’t stand it. He’s not going to be able to sleep. Sebastian heads back for the phone.

His mother answers curtly on the first ring. It’s her way of telling him that he’s on thin ice, her way of telling him that she’ll always answer even still. He responds without saying hello, falling easily back into the sullen teen attitude that Robin probably still expects from him.

“Seems to me like you forfeited the right to know her business.” She tells him simply when he asks if she’s seen Joni around town.

“Whose side are you on?” He hisses, holding the phone tightly to his ear.

“Yours.” She says sternly. “I have always been on yours Sebastian which is why I’m trying to figure out what you think you’re doing.”

“I’ve wanted to move to Zuzu since I was a kid.”

“Sure have”

Sebastian tenses. She always does this. Fuck, she _always_ does this. She’s the fucking master of interrogation, a real detective. “I did the right thing.” He winces, sounding more defensive than he’d like.

“Nobody’s upset at you for taking the job. I’m _so_ proud of you, Seb, but holy hell, kid, you really did do this in the worst possible way.” Sebastian winces. “Shit, if Demetrius hadn’t seen you leaving, I mighta been liable to call the damn cops the way you just disappeared off the face of the Earth. Not even Sam or Abi heard hide nor hair of ya.”

“Listen, I said I’m sorry.”

“Yes, very convincing.”

Sebastian clenches his jaw. “Listen, just tell me if Joni’s okay.”

“Ask her yourself.”

He sighs. “She won’t take my calls.”

“Can’t say I blame her for that.”

“Mom, _please._ ”

He hears her sharp intake of breath. “Sebastian. Honey.”

“I just…is she okay?”

“Now you listen here, alright? Nobody in this town is gonna let anything happen to that girl. Not a damn chance.” Sebastian exhales.

“But?”

“But what?”

“There’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.”

Robin sighs. “She seems sad.” Sebastian isn’t sure what he was hoping for. It’s not enough and too much.

The bodega down the street is a little grimy and the almost noxious smell of floor cleaner makes the place feel somehow dirtier. Sebastian nods to the drowsy clerk behind the high counter, the bell ringing as the door shuts, and heads back into the aisles. He hovers in front of the cold case for longer than he needs to, examining each plastic-wrapped sandwich, turning them around in his hand. He decides on tuna salad and cracks open the joja cola he’d grabbed from the front display, taking a few fortifying sips. He should hate the stuff, really, but Joni got him way turned onto it. Their little secret. His heart hurts.

“Sebastian.”

He freezes, can raised to his lips. He sets it quickly down on one of the shelves in front of him and straightens up, mussing with his hair to try and make it something approaching presentable. He turns and tries his best to smile. “Marianne, hey.”

Her smile is easier. She’s got one hand on her hip, the other wrapped around the neck of a bottle of wine. From what he can tell, she’s been out on a run, or at least wants to look that way. Her hair is pushed back with a headband, spandex tight on her lean body. He tries to guess her age again, like he did all those months back at the beachside bar. He settles on mid-fifties. Older than his own mother, even though she looks about a decade younger. “Fancy running into you here.” Sebastian makes a noise that is half a laugh and half something that sounds almost sad and Marianne cocks her head. “Do you live nearby?”

Sebastian stuffs his hands into his pockets and tries to look casual, tries to look like there isn’t a crater right in the middle of his own life that he’s been tiptoeing around for weeks. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

“Me too.” She nods behind her. “Just a few blocks east.” Sebastian gulps. “So,” she’s moved a little closer to him, setting the bottle of wine on top of a pile of bagged greens, “you settling in alright? We’re so happy to have you. Everybody thinks you’re doing great so far.”

“Wow, that’s great. That’s…I’m glad. Really.”

She smiles, reaching back for the bottle, then pauses, looking back up at him. “Have any plans tonight?”

He shakes his head, a feeling of dread settling in his gut. “Uh, no, not really. I was just um…” He glances back at the cola he’d discarded, trailing off.

“Why don’t you come over for dinner? Get a proper welcome.”

Sebastian barely has time to take the apartment in before she’s ushering him over to her unnervingly white couch and pouring him a drink. It smells expensive, the amber liquid sticking to the glass as it sloshes over the side. It feels profane actually, in an apartment this meticulously clean, to spill anything at all. It sets his teeth on edge. Fuck. He can read between the lines, he can read the looks she’s giving him. He feels like a little boy.

Sebastian downs the drink in one pull, desperate for the liquid courage to either get the hell out of there or grin and bear it. “Look at you.” She says, laughing. “You’re a man who knows what he wants.” Sebastian almost laughs. Marianne doesn’t give him time not to, sliding onto his lap before he can even process what’s happening. “You’re very handsome.” She kisses the corner of his lip and he tries not to flinch away from her. “But I bet everybody tells you that.” She starts to kiss him harder then stops, pulling away with a frown. “Come on now, I remember you being a better kisser than this.” Sebastian laughs nervously, realizing that he’s been frozen to the back of the couch, his hands in tight fights at his sides. He kisses her back, almost too earnestly, like he’s trying to eat her, like he can make her disappear with just his lips. She takes his hands in hers and sets them firmly on her hips.

Sebastian winces as he cums. He’s on his back, watching her ride him, trying to seem interested, trying to seem like he isn’t actively becoming more and more sick to his stomach. He’s attracted to her sure, but all the cells in his body feel like they’re trying to pull away from her touch.

Marianne rides him until his softening cock is almost raw, sensitive and twitchy. He isn’t sure if she’s finished or has just gotten bored, but when she leans down to kiss him, he closes his eyes. She laughs, patting him gently on the cheek. He opens one eye as she slides off him, watching her head nude into the bathroom. He lays a hand on his forehead, shielding his eyes, and tries to figure out how the hell he got here to begin with. “I’m post-menopausal,” she calls from the bathroom sink.

Sebastian leans up on his elbows. “What?”

She laughs, poking her head out of the door. “Stop looking so stricken. You’re not gonna knock me up.”

He frowns. “Oh, uh, shit, yeah. Probably should have used a condom.” He runs his teeth over his lower lip. “Sorry.”

She pads back into the bedroom and stretches her arms over her head. Her tits jiggle as she moves, perky and pretty, but they do nothing for him, just increase his already tripling dread. Sebastian rolls off the bed, yanking his briefs up his legs, suddenly desperate not to be naked anymore. “You kids never do.” Her laugh is almost mean. Sebastian frowns. What the fuck does that mean? “Don’t worry, I’m clean.”

“Uh, y-yeah, same.”

Marianne sighs contentedly, mussing her hair. “Well, how about that dinner, then?”

She’s flipping through takeout menus and Sebastian is frozen, leaning against her kitchen island. It’s spotless, the finger smudges he’s left with his fidgeting the only marks on it. He’d kill for a cigarette, but the apartment smells cleanly like nothing and he doesn’t dare. Marianne looks up, the menu for a Thai place between her fingers. “Want some sparkling water?”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

She nods absently toward the fridge, heading toward the phone. “Get one for me too.”

Her fridge is empty except for the case of Perrier and a carton of whipping cream. Sebastian scans the apartment again, letting the cold from the fridge waft over his skin. She has no magnets on her fridge. There are no photos of anybody, anywhere in the apartment.

He smokes a whole pack of cigarettes outside his building, willing his fingers to stop trembling. The air is damp and cool, the very first taste of fall, and he closes his eyes to just feel it. It reminds him of crisp evenings back in the mountains, wood smoke in cold air, leaves trodden underfoot. He can’t stand it.

He nods to a couple as they enter the building. They ignore him and he averts his eyes. He crumples his empty pack and lets it drop into a puddle on the sidewalk.

Sebastian dials half of Joni’s number before he thinks better of it, setting the phone onto the receiver with a decisive click. If he hadn’t spent the last week crying like a child, he might be able to muster up some tears now. Mostly, he just feels raw. Cut wide open and exposed. He heads to the bathroom and turns the shower to scalding. He stands under the torrent until his skin goes numb, his limbs livid red. 


	9. Citrus*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joni is riding the wave of her chaotic energy and an unexpected force brings her back down to earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably should have put this in the Way through the Woods BUT: casual drug use is often a part of being social in your twenties! but please !never! feel pressured to partake! and use harm reduction strategies if you do! All of the characters in this story use drugs like little idiots. They are not good role models lol. Be careful bbs.

Joni deletes it after the first strangled ‘I love you’. She doesn’t want to fucking hear it. Doesn’t want to think about him, or his voice, or the way she misses him with every inch of herself, with every cell in her body.

She heads to the bathroom, determined to wash the day’s grime off her, to wash Sebastian’s voicemail off her. Joni leans over the tub and cracks the bathroom window open, leaning on the tile as she starts the water. The days are still warm but as the sun hovers down by the trees in the late afternoons, it takes the temperature down with it. A few leaves have gone yellow around their edges and the Valley has started to smell like old growth and campfire smoke. In the mornings, a heavy mist lingers across the farm, disappearing quickly once the sun rises up over the trees. A coziness is settling in all around town and it’s painful now in ways it didn’t used to be.

The farmhouse, always shifting, always groaning with life, only knew Sebastian for a few months and yet it seems to be yearning for him too, aching around the void he’s left inside of it. Joni peels her jeans down her legs. She’s sticky from her own sweet, dusty from the greenhouse. The temperature is always so wild in September. Hot and cold, sometimes at the same time. Sometimes the weather makes her feel feverish.

The water feels so good on her skin and she exhales into the steam. She can almost forget the voicemail. Almost forget Sebastian. _Almost._

Sometimes, when she was in the shower, she’d hear Sebastian come quietly into the bathroom. He would coo something so soft that she couldn’t quite make out over the rush of the water and then, with an almost supernatural grace, he’d slip out of his clothes and into the shower with her. He has big hands, long, dexterous fingers, warm even under the shower’s hot spray, and he would trace her body with them. _Here,_ he would say, tangling his fingers through her hair, _let me help._ The memory descends on her, corners her like prey. She shuts off the shower and the whole room goes still, the air suddenly chilled. She stifles a sob, the sound rolling into a quiet, agonized cry. Her heart feels like it’s burst from her chest and she crumbles out of the tub and onto the tile, leaning her back against the smooth porcelain. She cranes her neck back, staring at the ceiling, letting her hair fall limply back into the tub.

The house was never his and yet it still feels empty without him. His voicemail has gotten under her skin. He was always tender touches, carefully controlled passion, easy curiosity. She’d only listened to three words, his voice distorted by her machine, but she’d heard an agony in them that scared her. How unfair, how fucking unfair of him to put that on her after leaving the way he did. “Asshole.” Her devastation morphs easily into fury. Joni spits between her knees onto the tile floor. “Fucking piece of shit.”

Robin comes over unannounced that evening, a chill firmly in the air now, the sound of the truck cutting sharply through the dense quiet around the farmhouse. It’s a bit of a surprise, but Joni figures it’s probably past due. Hell, she half expected her to come over that first night, knocking down the front door.

Joni heads out onto the porch, wrapped in a soft sweater tucked halfway into her jeans. Robin swings out of her truck, picnic basket tucked under her arm, and a few tears slide down Joni’s cheeks. She wipes furiously at them, banishing this stupid feeling. Yoba, this is just like it was those first few months in the Valley. That familiar child-like pull, that overwhelming gratitude that Robin is here, that anyone is here at all, and that sinister hunch that she doesn’t deserve any of it anyway. Joni shakes her head. She’s too tired to keep feeling sorry for herself and straightens up, holding her arms. Hell, she doesn’t know the protocol for this. An ex’s mother coming around the house.

But Robin’s got an easy way about her like always and her smile is bright as ever. “Just a quick stop,” Robin calls across the yard, “I know you’re probably busy.” She takes the stairs two at a time and then she’s close enough that Joni can smell raw wood and resin and she smiles, because it’s warm, because the house doesn’t feel as empty anymore. “But I thought you might like some treats.” She winks. “Yoba knows you’re not gonna be cooking for yourself.”

“Evelyn made up some cake with the extra carrots Caroline grew in her garden this year. Thought you might want a slice or two.” Robin sets two plates down on the kitchen table, the plastic wrap pulled taut over the slices has smashed the intricate design on the frosting. “Found some cranberry candy in the freezer too.” Robin sets a tall Tupperware down next to the cake, the candy glistening in the light like rubies. “And,” she says with a wink and flourish, “Demetrius made a mixed berry pie that is,” she kisses her fingers, “out of this world.” Robin pulls out half a pie and sets it down in the middle of the table.

Joni leans on one hand, cross-legged in her dining room chair, and smiles. “This is so great, Robin, really amazing.”

Robin leans over and pats Joni gently on the cheek. “Of course, you sweet thing.”

Joni unfolds her legs and heads toward the fridge. “I’ve got some iced tea.” She looks back over her shoulder at Robin, “made it fresh yesterday. Want some?”

Robin smiles but shakes her head. “No, no that’s alright, sweetheart. Just wanted to pop by.” Suddenly she frowns and Joni can feel the air in the kitchen shift. Robin clears her throat and Joni shuts the fridge door, heading hesitantly back to the table. Robin shakes her head, eyes closed, then looks up at Joni with an intensity that nearly sends her stumbling backward. “I want to apologize for my son.”

Joni sucks in a harsh breath. “Robin, you don’t have to-“

Robin holds up a hand to silence her. “No, just listen here. I know you don’t want to talk about this, but it has to be said. The boy has fucked up and I’m sorry. Even if he isn’t.” Joni flinches. “But I think he is.”

“W-what do you mean?” She can’t help but ask, even though it’s the last thing she wants to know. Sharp longing already settling in her chest.

“I know he cares about you. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him care about someone the way he’s cared about you.” She looks off out the kitchen window, the corners of her mouth twitching downward. “He’s always had trouble with that.” Joni doesn’t ask what that means. She slumps down in the kitchen chair and looks anywhere but at Robin.

Yellow light skitters across her body, roving over the quilt bunched around her bare legs. An early harvest moon hangs rich and heavy in the night sky, filtering the normally silvery moonlight into something warmer. It hangs like the bottom of an orange in the corner of her window, the kind of spooky celestial body that makes the ocean roil in the bay, crashing violently onto the beach. Joni feels similarly chaotic.

She’s bunched her shirt up above her tits, rolling her nipples between her fingers, trying to convince herself that she isn’t imagining his hands instead. Joni slides one hand down her stomach until she reaches the soft patch of hair at the apex of her thighs. She releases her other nipple, brushing that hand down too, smoothing her thumbs over her hipbones, across the base of her thighs. Sebastian always touched her like she was brand new, like she was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen and he never lacked in curiosity. He liked to play. Told her so. _Play with yourself. Let me play with you. I want you. I want to play._ Joni shudders, remembering, and flips over, ass in the air, fingers hunting for her clit. It wasn’t just something he said, but the spirit of his sexuality. Sometimes, when they fucked, he’d be downright _playful._ Once, after they’d spent the morning tangled up in each other, he’d slid down between her legs, wrapping his lips around her clit. She’d tensed, looking down to see him staring at her, mischief in his eyes. He tugged, almost violently, his teeth just threatening. Joni held her breath, whole body hot with anticipation. He waited, just like that, almost biting, until she was sure she was going to pass out, then he grinned, laving his tongue over her pussy. He’d crawled up her body, kissing each spot on the way to her throat. “Easy, baby,” he’d teased against her jaw, fingers slipping inside of her.

Joni groans at the memory and slips a finger, then two, inside herself. She’d never really been able to fuck herself like that. Not well at least. Can’t get the angle right, can’t get deep enough. But she wants to feel full, wants to feel _fucked._ She adds a third finger, rocking back on her hand. It’s frustrating, _infuriating,_ that she can’t even approximate the feeling of his fingers inside of her. Yoba, he’s so good with his fingers. And patient. All the things she isn’t. Joni rocks back harder, like she can cum through sheer force. She still hasn’t figured out how to make herself squirt and the idea that he can make her body do something that she can’t sits like a rock in her chest. Emily could probably make her squirt. The thought comes to her suddenly, but once it settles, it doesn’t actually seem like that bad of an idea. She’s patient enough, wild enough.

Joni flips over, hunting for her underwear. She slides it up her less, fingers still sticky from herself, and pads into the front room. Goose opens one eye to look at her from his perch on the back of the couch. “Don’t.” She says, reaching for the phone. “Keep your judgment to yourself.” He yawns, shutting both eyes and nuzzling into the couch.

Emily answers on the last ring, sounding either tired or very, very stoned. “Hey,” Joni says, hoping she doesn’t sound as desperate as she feels, “are you around?”

Emily has a twinkling laugh. “I’m always ‘around’. Where is ‘around’ in a universe as vast and beautiful as ours?”

Joni ignores her. “Come over.”

Emily hums, thoughtful. “What for?”

“I want to hang out.”

“At 10 pm?”

Joni sighs, irritated. Since when does Emily give a shit what time it is? “Do you want to come over or not?”

Emily is unfazed that Joni has answered the door only in her underwear and it throws Joni off her game. She breezes past her into the house and when Joni follows her, she spares a glance at the mirror on the far wall, making sure she hasn’t become suddenly hideous. Emily spins beside the couch, the hem of her shimmery robe billowing out around her ankles. Goose pads off to the bedroom, not amused by Joni’s new guest. Emily beams at her. Joni can see the metallic glint of the bars through her nipples. Emily opens her bag and tosses Joni an orange. She catches it, brows furrowed, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. “Vitamin c.” Emily says dreamily. “I brought some new CDs. Picked them up on my last trip to the desert.”

“I didn’t invite you here to listen to music.”

Emily hesitates and Joni realizes this might be the first time she’s ever seen her do that. “I’m not sure the right thing to do is fuck each other.”

Joni’s jaw hangs a little open and now she’s wishing she’d put a fucking shirt on. “You don’t want to fuck me?”

Emily sighs. “Of course I _want_ to fuck you, but I’m not sure if I _should._ ” She gestures vaguely in the air, the bangles around her wrist clinking together. “I’ve been reading about monastic orders. Way up in the mountain. Asesthetes. Have you heard about them?”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I’ve been thinking about minimalism.” She smiles, fussing absently with her long, beaded earrings “About restraint.”

“Have you now?” Emily just cocks her head, dreamy smile never leaving her lips. Joni wonders what the fuck she took before she came over. “Listen, this is a really bad time for you to be discovering yourself or whatever.”

Emily presses the back of her hand to Joni’s temple. The touch startles her. She hadn’t seen her cross the distance. “I’m worried about you.”

Joni pulls away. “Oh, not you too.”

They make eye contact, Emily looking at her almost gravely. “Your love isn’t for me.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Emily back away from her toward the stereo beside the tv stand. “Have an orange.” She motions to her woven back. “And some xannies. Help yourself to a couple.” Joni glances over to the bag. Yeah, Xanax might be alright right about now. “I got a great new album. Very ethereal. It’ll put you right out.”

Joni sighs and pulls on a sweater from the back of the couch. She digs through Emily’s bag until she finds the little white pills and pops two into her mouth. They feel like a rush of cool air, her body unclenching even before she swallows. Joni runs her fingers through her hair then sits cross-legged beside Emily. She’s fussing with the stereo. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos keep me inspired! Thank you so much!


	10. City Spooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian makes a friend.

Aaron is the kind of guy Sebastian would have hated in high school. Clean cut and smiley. Friendly. A little like a golden retriever, now that he thinks about it. Looks a little like one too. Blonde hair and bright blue eyes. A body type that Sebastian might have called husky if he didn’t dress so sleekly, move so easily through the crowd. So, yeah, not really his type at first blush, but Sebastian’s sticking close by him because all of his other coworkers are a little insufferable and this bar has started to become overwhelming.

It’s one of those sleek, high-ceiling-ed affairs just a few blocks down from their office and now, Spirit’s Eve weekend, its full of DINKs and yuppies who are either wearing no costume at all or costumes so intricate they’re a little unnerving. Sebastian sees more than a couple guys dressed as Patrick Bateman whose expensive watches look pretty real and _uncanny_ is the first word that comes to mind. He wonders if they understand irony or if they slept through all their English classes in college. Maybe they’re just frightening.

One of his coworkers, a mousy guy in a tie whose name he can’t remember, remarks that he thought this place would be…better. _Hell,_ Sebastian thinks, _I could have told you what a joint in the financial district would be like._ But it doesn’t really seem like his coworkers get out all that much. They’re all about ten years older than him and either married with kids or have never seen between a woman’s legs in their lives. Aaron, though, seems completely unfazed by the slow moving shitstorm around them, guiding the conversation effortlessly forward, comfortable even as the rest of the table seems about to bolt. And Sebastian’s happy to settle into the background with his pack of cigarettes until, after a few drinks, Aaron gets a mischievous glint in his and starts talking about aliens and how the moon landing is maybe fake and Sebastian’s suddenly very interested. Or at least mollified. He sure as fuck doesn’t want to talk about HTML or the new vending machine on the first floor anymore. Aaron notices that Sebastian’s suddenly paying attention and quirks one of his eyebrows. Sebastian stifles a grin, sipping on the whiskey he ordered, burning cigarette tucked between his fingers, wondering what game they’ve started to play and if anyone else knows the rules.

The new turn in conversation does, what Sebastian assumes, what Aaron intended it to and one by one their coworkers excuse themselves either to the other side of the bar or out the increasingly crowded front door. “Boring pricks.” Aaron says never losing that innocent smile. 

Sebastian lights another cigarette. “How do you know I’m not one?”

Aaron winks. “You’re still here aren’t you?” He grimaces as he sips the thick, clear liquid in his glass. “You know, this place really is highway robbery. You think the WASPs would know better, wouldn’t you? Eight dollars for bottom shelf gin and a few teardrops of lemon juice, fucking _lord.”_ He glances around the bar. “Guess they don’t teach common sense at the Ivies, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Sebastian says shrugging.

“Yeah, I heard that about you. Some kind of coding genius but you dropped out of school.”

Sebastian flinches. “I was a semester from finishing.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I’m just the marketing guy.” Sebastian scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, looking out at the crowd at the bar. Aaron leans a little closer. “You look like the kind of kid who woulda beat me up for my lunch money in high school.”

Sebastian can’t help himself. This is too bizarre, too funny. It’s exactly what he needs to distract himself. He smiles, focus narrowing to their table. “I still might.”

Aaron throws his head back and laughs. “Oh shit, shit. I knew I’d like you. You’re the most interesting thing to happen to this company in years.”

“My competition doesn’t seem very stiff,” Sebastian says nodding vaguely toward the bar. He’s settled a little more, the muscles in his shoulders finally unclenching.

Aaron smiles sort of dreamily. “You’re probably right.”

Despite looking like a Mormon missionary, Aaron has eclectic taste. Good taste even and they’re halfway through a conversation about speculative fiction when Aaron gets a sort of faraway look and dives headfirst into his third gin. Sebastian frowns, trying to figure out what’s happened. He’s on his fourth whiskey, plowing through a half pack of cigarettes. It’d been a long day at work and he’d skipped lunch for a meeting. The bar is starting to wobble. A woman dressed as a Lichtenstein girl passes by their table, the dots on her face smudged. “So,” Aaron sets his glass down with a loud clank, “hypothetically speaking, would I be barking up the wrong tree with you?”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at him, thoughts too slow to fully process what he’s just asked. “What?” Aaron laughs, brushing back his honey-colored hair. He raises a single eyebrow and Sebastian’s brain finally catches up. “Oh. Oh! Wow, shit, yeah sorry, man.” He rubs nervously at his neck. “I hope I wasn’t sending you the wrong signals or anything.”

Aaron smiles and raises his glass. “To new friends then.”

Sebastian hesitates, a little taken aback. He scans the bar, trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. The city is so full, so terrifying. He could use a friend, really. Tim’s been nothing but a drain these days. Eh, fuck it. Sebastian raises his own glass. “To new friends.” They clink. Aaron drains his glass and grimaces.

It’s a grey kind of night, the outlines of the clouds still visible in the dark sky, a soft, almost imperceptible, rain falling. The street is crowded by people in costumes and the two of them duck into the shadows of the bar’s awning. Sebastian offers Aaron a cigarette. He coughs loudly on the first drag. “So, you got a girl then?”

Sebastian stiffens. “Oh, uh, no. Not really”

“Not really?”

“Not anymore.” His mouth is dry, lips feel brittle. The whiskey gave him a headache. 

“Oh shit, rough breakup, huh?” Sebastian half nods. “Sounds like a real open wound.”

Sebastian stiffens. “Are you this blunt with everybody?”

Aaron ashes the cigarette half burned. “Pretty much.”

Sebastian smiles despite himself. He looks over at Aaron, really looks at him, and maybe it’s the cool night air settling on his skin or the liquor settling hard in his empty stomach, but he can’t help himself. “Can I…can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Does Marianne-“

“Big boss man?”

“Yeah, her. Does she uh, usually…” Sebastian falters, trying to figure out what he wants to say, if he wants to say anything at all.

“What?”

Sebastian lights another cigarette “You know what? Nevermind. I’m fucking drunk as shit right now.”

“Sure man, sure.” Sebastian takes a long drag and lets the smoke billow out his nose. Marianne found him after a meeting a few days before, practically cornered him in the hallway to invite him to another dinner. She’d smelled almost floral, but the sharp alcohol backnote of perfume tickled his nose as she brushed too close to him. He’s been trying to come up with an excuse not to go ever since. If Aaron notices that Sebastian’s zoned out, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “You been to that Chinese place a few blocks down?”

Sebastian rubs his neck, the street coming back into focus. “Nah man. I just moved here. I’ve hardly been anywhere in this neighborhood.”

“You hungry?”

“Sure, but uh,” Sebastian nods back toward the bar, “I’m sure there’s some trees in there you could bark up.”

Aaron scoffs. “Those guys in there? I’d rather die.”

The place is larger on the inside than it appears on the outside, but only by a little. The two of them slip through the narrow glass door, Sebastian ducking to not disturb the bell ringing above them on the way in. There’s just enough room between the two rows of tables for them to head toward the cash register at the back. It smells like grease and sugar and the distinct scent of frying meat. Sebastian’s stomach growls, twisting almost painfully.

It’s mostly empty. In one corner, at the restaurant’s only round table, a large family is working through a mountainous pile of food, conversation batting easily back and forth between them. But they’re the only customers otherwise. A thin old man pokes his head out from the plastic curtain dividing the kitchen from the tables and waves hello to them. Aaron waves back, settling into a table by the register with an ease that tells Sebastian he comes here a lot. “Get anything on the menu. It’s all good.” Aaron doesn’t even open his.

“Gotcha.” Sebastian flips through the plastic-covered pages. His thumb brushes against a patch of dried sauce and he reflexively wipes it on his jeans. Most of the menu is in Chinese, the photos so old they have that same seventies sepia fade as all his childhood photos. Joni told him a story once, about a Chinese restaurant on the north side of the city. She’d save money in secret all week and then, on Fridays, would sneak out of her middle school around lunchtime to buy herself a feast. Her dad was some kind of raw vegan, sprouted grain hippy type and Joni had laughed when she told him that she was raised almost exclusively on lentils and tahini dressings. The sugar and salt and fried, crispy bits of meat from the Chinese place were like a drug, almost ecstasy. The most indulgent secret. He can imagine her now, sitting just across from him, licking her fingers, smiling softly to herself. Sebastian kneads roughly at the base of his neck, trying to push the thought away. The alcohol helps.

Aaron orders them two Chinese beers and a pot of tea when the old man pops his head through the plastic curtain then turns to look at Sebastian, resting his head on his tented fingers. “So.”

“So.” Sebastian abandons the menu and lights a cigarette, figuring he’ll just order whatever Aaron gets.

“How long have you been in the city?”

“A month.” He taps the glowing end of his cigarette against the ceramic ashtray beside the soy sauce bottle. The tablecloth is an unnerving cross between plastic and fabric. “Almost exactly actually. But I’ve got a lot of friends in town so,” he winces, like the memories are too strong, too out of place now. Like maybe he doesn’t want to reveal himself, but doesn’t yet know who he wants to pretend to be. “I’ve visited a lot.” Sebastian sniffs, taking a quick puff. “What about you?”

“Zuzu born and raised.”

Sebastian bites back his sudden urgent desire to ask him if he knows Joni. “Wow, what’s that like?”

Aaron pauses to consider his question, frowning a little. “Don’t know any different, I guess. Never got the guts to run away.” The old man edges through the plastic curtain, a wide bowl of soup in one hand, a kettle in the other. He sets them steaming down on their table. Outside, the cold rain has started to fall heavier, blurring the city beyond the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys <3


	11. Local Spooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joni has a hell of a Spirit's Eve and Leah plants the seed of an idea in her head.

“She rejected me,” Joni says, straightening the cat ears on top of her head. She found them in the library’s basement lost and found. They made for an easy costume, pulling on a pair of dark jeans and a black turtleneck to complete the look. She hadn’t bothered with a tail, doesn’t even really want to be fucking out here tonight if she’s honest. The memories of her last Spirit’s Eve festival in the Valley bubble just under the surface. The jack-o-lanterns lining the path into the town square aren’t helping. She looks instinctually toward the willow trees by the river, half expecting to see the glowing tip of a lit cigarette.

“Before you ask,” Leah says, adjusting the straw-colored cowboy hat on her head, “I’m Louise.”

“Louise?”

She groans. “Thelma and Louise! Holy Yoba.”

Joni glances at her. She’s got a bandana tied around her neck and a white, sleeveless blouse tucked into her jeans. “Yeah, I guess I see it.” Leah glares at her. “Did you hear what I said?”

“You probably shouldn’t start fucking Emily again anyway.” Joni shoots her a look. Leah grins at her, plucking a caramel apple from one of the banquet tables as they head deeper into the town square. A few kids dressed as Power Rangers whiz past them, shrieking as they go. Joni sees Sam over by the punch bowl, figures Abigail isn’t far off, and ducks a little out of sight. Yoba knows what that conversation would be like. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even want to talk to her. “Speak of the devil,” Leah says, voice muffled by the caramel apple she’s still munching on. She nods toward the Saloon and Joni glances up in that direction. Emily isn’t hard to find. She’s glittering in the low light, a cascading robe of sequins flowing down her body. A crown of enormous fake flowers sits atop her pale blue hair, gossamer fabric wings drooping from her shoulder blades. Leah whistles. “You know every year she gets to me. Remind me not to fuck her.”

“If she fucks you but not me I’m gonna throw a fit.”

Leah brushes her off, rolling her eyes. “She has the good stuff, yeah?”

“That’s what she said over the phone.”

Leah straightens her hat like she’s shoring herself up and nods for Joni to follow. “Cool. Let’s get to it.”

Shrooms always taste bitter to Joni. She always feels, as she chews them into powder, like she might retch. Or maybe it’s just because all of the memories from her very first Spirit’s Eve in the Valley are washing quickly over her as they stand by the entrance to the maze. Elliot by the banquet table. An omen she hadn’t quite caught. Sebastian towering over her in the darkness. She’d felt good just knowing he was there, even though they’d hardly known each other then. There’s an empty space where he should be. She can feel it on her skin.

Emily is looking at her with the kind of worried pity Joni didn’t think her capable of and she wants to tell her to cut it out, but she can feel herself coming up and it stops her brain in its tracks. That bit of excitement, terror, like cresting onto the top track just before a drop on a rollercoaster. Joni exhales, her breath billowing out in front of her.

Joni can’t sit still anymore. They’ve parked themselves beside the punch bowl, warm light flickering on their skin from the bonfires and the twinkling lights, but the trees have started beckoning for her, the walls of the Saloon pulsing like the chambers of a heart. Besides, Emily’s gotten distracted by a couple villagers Joni doesn’t know and she and Leah have run out of things to talk about that aren’t depressing, the trip settling hard over them. 

The glowing lights in the town square have started to dance, wobbling softly side to side. A batch of sunflowers on Pierre’s stand blink curiously at Joni, their dark centers pulsing and growing like empty eyes. She slides her hand quietly over to hold Leah’s and, pliable from the shrooms, she follows her as she heads down toward the river.

The kelp covered fence that separates the town from the beach reflects in the silvery light of the moon and beyond it, the incomprehensible darkness of the beach. “Where are we going?” Leah asks. Her pupils are pinpricks.

“You know.”

“ _Joni._ ” Leah yanks back a little, but doesn’t stop, lets herself be pulled until their feet hit sand.

The ocean is luminescent but even it cannot illuminate the pitch darkness that has settled on the beach. They find Elliot’s cabin only because it is a wide black spot on the ocean’s glistening horizon line. They stand in the shadow of it until their eyes adjust and the first thing Joni sees is a figure in the window. She yelps, jumping backward, and Leah grabs her hand again, scrambling back with her. “It was just me.” She says, breathy. She looks again, checking to make sure it really is just her water reflection in the glass. “Just me.”

“What are we doing out here?”

Joni just shrugs, scanning the beach. The sand is littered with broken shells. Long lengths of kelp shiny like the backs of dark fish lay limp in the moonlight. The cabin looks worse than she remembers it. It’s been a while since she’s come down here. Before Elliot ever spoke to her, before she even knew he existed. Maybe Joni should feel afraid, but instead, she just feels angry. Livid, actually. She remembers Elliot’s fingers fumbling with the buttons of her shirt and her whole body trembles with rage.

A smooth rock catches her eye, lit up from the light coming off the ocean. Joni picks it up and it takes only a moment of consideration before she levels the rock at Elliot’s window. The glass shatters with a loud crash, sending a pack of seagulls screeching out over the water.

Leah cries out, covering her ears. An eerie silence falls over the beach then Leah clears her throat. “O-kay, so it’s that kind of night then.”

Joni pulls her sweater down further on her arm and sweeps it across the bottom of the window to clear out the glass. “Help me up.”

The cabin is dusty, both of them coughing as they crawl through the broken window. Joni feels blindly forward until she finds what feels like a desk, then fumbles around on it until she finds a lamp. It flickers on, bathing the room in yellow light. The walls look like the hull of a boat and Joni tries to ignore the way they’re breathing. She’s not sure what she expected, but she didn’t expect something this austere. In the corner: a single bed blanketed in a thin quilt. A few plants, so dead they’re crispy, sit on the on the sill of the opposite window. The desk is just as shabby as the rest of the place, looking like it was made from cheap plywood. A heavy typewriter sits in the center, surrounded haphazardly by papers. Joni heads over, flipping through the papers. He’s written all over them in red pen, angry annotations. The letters start to wobble. Joni sets them back down. “What a fucking prick. This place is so boring.”

Leah looks up from the trunk she’s been rifling through at the base of his bed. “What were you expecting? Lampshades made out of human skin?”

“A girl can dream right?” Joni runs her hands along his desk like she’s trying to glean something essential about him from the gnarled wood. Nothing emerges, not even with the psychedelics roaring through her. She digs her nails into the wood and shakes her head, then her eyes drift to the corner of the desk. Pushed into the very corner is an intricate ceramic lighthouse. It’s heavy in Joni’s hand. She runs her thumb along the smooth details, the window sills colored with gold paint. She bounces it in her palm. Once, twice, then spins on her heel and throws it hard at the opposite wall. It breaks into three pieces, the cabin’s wall bending a little with the force of the impact. Leah jumps up. “Shit!” She takes a few deep breaths, smoothing her hair back with her hands. She looks over at Joni. “Feel better?”

Joni exhales, bouncing from one foot to the other. “Yeah, actually.” She heads back to the desk and, with some effort, lifts the typewriter. It falls hard against the floorboards with a metallic, springy thump, a few of the keys breaking off and skittering across the wood. She’d break this whole cabin if she could. Take the bed apart, tear open the mattress. Do all the things she wishes she could do to him, hoping he can feel the destruction somehow, coming toward him through the ether.

“What if he comes back?” Leah says it like a joke, but her eyes are darting around to every dark corner.

“We kill him.’”

Leah laughs, joining Joni in front of the desk. “Stop it. I probably would kill someone for you.” Joni scoffs, elbowing her playfully in the arm. “Which reminds me,” Leah says leaning back on the desk, “the offer to kill Sebastian still stands.” Joni groans, trying to ignore the way the sound of his name still hurts her heart. “I can also just beat him up.”

“He’s a little bigger than you.”

“Yeah, but he’s a softy.” Joni runs her fingers along the back of her neck. He _was_ always so soft with her, right up until the end. “Wish you’d saved that damn voicemail. I’d tear him to shreds.”

Joni stiffens at the mention of the voicemail. _I love you._ The sudden urge to call him hits her hard across the chest. To say _yes, Yoba, please. Come home. Come back to me._ She didn’t write down his new phone number. “It wasn’t anything special.”

“Consider it dropped.” Leah glances at the back wall and pauses. “Oh, son of a bitch. I completely forgot about this.” She reaches up to pull her painting roughly off the wall. “Maybe I can sell this thing. Mark up the price.” She holds the painting out in front of her. “ _Once owned by Pelican Town’s worst piece of shit.”_

They’re halfway back to the farmhouse, coming steadily down from the shrooms, when Leah speaks again. “My gallery show fell through.”

Joni stops in her tracks, pulling her coat tighter around her. A heavy fog has fallen onto the path. “Oh shit.”

Leah shakes her head. “No, no. I don’t want to be mad about it. I’m tripping balls of Sprit’s Eve and I don’t want to be mad about it.”

Joni bounces on the balls of her feet, still edgy from the shrooms and the inside of Elliot’s cabin. “What happened?”

“It’s ‘cause I’m not in Zuzu.”

Joni swallows hard. “You’re shitting me?” 

Leah frowns, looking off to the side of the path. “I mean, yeah, that’s it in so many words. They needed me close. To do press and meet with people and stuff. I couldn’t afford two weeks in a hotel and they couldn’t front me so…” Leah sighs, “I had to them I couldn’t do it.”

“Fuck.” Joni looks up at the sky, trying not to let the panic rising up in her chest overtake her. “Are you…”

“What?”

“Are you gonna move?”

She shakes her head. “Couldn’t afford it on my own.”

“Oh.” Joni’s brain sparks, just the embers of an idea.

Leah shrugs and they start heading back up the path. “It’s something to put a pin in.” Joni nods, hugging herself. Her thoughts going a mile a minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me even though it's been more breakup than makeup with this sequel <3


	12. Blow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian's life has become a blur and Joni haunts his thoughts.

The voicemail had made him feel vaguely ill. He’d gotten it a few days ago coming back late from the bar, smelling like spilled liquor and whatever made the train always smell just a little swampy. The apartment had, for the first time, felt insulated and not vacuous but the solitary blinking on his voice machine had pulled him violently from any post-night out high he’d been feeling. He’d hoped it was Joni. It was never Joni.

Marianne’s tone was the same as always. Professional, with just a hint of secret amusement in her voice, but the shit she was saying was so graphic, so intense, that he’d walked away and into the kitchen, needing to listen to it filtered through the wall, a physical barrier between him and her. The grind of the coffee machine drowned out a good bit of it, but he got the gist. He more than got the gist.

Staring at her from across the table at the meeting now, Sebastian can barely focus on what’s being said. The whole office is white. Windows everywhere. Glass and shiny plastic; smooth lines that have no personality and have started to deflect his own, like they’re fighting a battle to wring every last bit of character out of him. He knew it was like this. Hell, he’s worked in tech for nearly a decade. He _knows_ what these tech firms do and how they work, but to be here in one, to come to it every day is a different soul-sucking beast entirely. It makes him long for the uncertainty of freelance, for the concrete walls of his basement room.

He’s being dramatic, but this meeting is dragging. The project is going smoothly far as Sebastian can tell, but one of the guys in public relations sent some kind of inflammatory email and now here they all are, the whole damn team. Aaron makes a face at him from across the table. Sebastian returns it with just the slightest quirk on one side of his mouth. Marianne doesn’t notice because Marianne is looking through all of them, up at the transparency projected onto the opposite wall. It’s a graph Sebastian doesn’t care about and one that doesn’t fucking concern him. He wonders why he’s in this meeting to begin with. He wonders, replaying the voicemail over in his head, if Marianne would be able to pick him out of a lineup or if he’s just another warm body. A quick glance in his direction tells him that maybe he’s not and he decides that’s probably worse.

Sebastian wants to stop looking at her, but the conference room is so filled with afternoon light that there’s nowhere else for him to look, so he focuses all this energy into the top button of her shirt. He’s so zoned out that, when the meeting ends, he’s the last to leave, snapping almost violently back to himself.

Sebastian hurries down the hall, shielding his eyes from the office’s big windows, the light rushing over him as he walks. A chill settled over the city a week before. The first frost. Early this year. That feels like obsolete knowledge now. Country boy shit he’s pretending he doesn’t know. A gray fog hangs over the harbor like a sheet of ice. Just looking at it makes him shiver.

He feels a little feverish, like the churning heat inside of him is meeting his frigid skin, condensation rolling down him like a window. He’s been keeping his apartment cold, like he’s trying to punish himself. Or at least that’s what Aaron said when he turned the heat on the day after the voicemail, showing up with a bottle of wine and some curry from a place on the train line between his apartment and Aaron’s. Red wine, actually, drier than sweet and so alcoholic that Sebastian had poured every hurt thing out for him. He’d honest to god cried. Too busy trying to remember if he’d ever cried in front of a friend before to be embarrassed that he was dumping on someone he’d only met a month and some change before. Mercifully, Aaron hasn’t mentioned it since.

Sebastian rubs at the sore spot at the base of his neck. It feels tighter than it ever has. The office makes him feel sterile. He wants to feel a little grungy. Wants to feel like himself again.

“I heard you live here now.” Beth sidles up to him, beer in hand. The bookstore’s lowlight casts her face half in shadow, her eyes glittering almost eerily as she looks up at him. She’s growing her hair out, dark locks falling just above her collarbone now, bangs still jagged a few inches above her eyebrows. The stud through her tongue flashes when she smiles at him.

Sebastian smiles back and, for the first time in weeks, he feels it. Yoba, it feels nice to be back in his shitty old pullover, in his grungy jeans torn at the knees. The wooden molding is probably older than his entire office building. Some of the dust probably is too. “You heard right.”

“Well, congratulations.” She nudges him, smiling. “So where’s your better half huh?”

Sebastian swallows hard, chest suddenly so heavy he can barely breathe. “Tim didn’t tell you?”

Beth rolls her eyes. “Like I talk to Tim.”

He takes a quick drag of his cigarette and then, in a jumble, like he hopes she won’t hear him, tells her. “We broke up.”

Her face immediately falls. “Shit. ” And then, with no warning, she pulls him into a tight hug. Sebastian melts into it. Realizing all at once that it’s been so long, _so long_ , since someone’s touched him. “Holy fuck..” She says, stroking his back. “What happened?”

She’s been quiet for a while. They’re wrapped in their coats, huddled up by the bookstore’s front windows. A thick fog has settled on the street, cocooning the bookstore, only the faintest lights bobbing through the mist. “I’m just really shocked.” She says finally.

“Is it really that shocking?” Sebastian ashes his cigarette, feeling hollow all over again.

“Yes, absolutely,” Beth says, incredulous. “I’ve never seen you like that with someone, holy shit. But it’s even more shocking that she’d try to stop you from moving out here. I just…that’s so wild.”

Sebastian frowns. “I mean. She didn’t.”

“What?”

“She didn’t try to stop me.” Beth narrows her eyes at him and he clears his throat. “I didn’t ask her.” Beth shoves him. Sebastian stumbles. “What the hell!?”

“You what the hell!? Why didn’t you ask her?”

Sebastian averts his eyes. “I just…I was afraid she’d try to convince me to stay.” He looks up, pleading. “I knew I couldn’t say no to her.”   
“So what? You thought it was better to just light the whole thing on fire?” Sebastian shrugs. He wants another cigarette, but even he thinks he’s been overdoing it lately. “Wait a minute. Isn’t she from Zuzu? Like originally?”

Sebastian pauses. He knows that, of course, but he’d somehow forgotten and he isn’t sure why the realization is sitting suddenly off with him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just, I doubt it would have been a hard sell.” Sebastian lets that wash over him. He can’t linger on it and instead bounces on the balls of his feet, hoping this conversation is about done. “So you didn’t trust her then?”

“Of course I trusted her!” It comes out angrier than he meant it to and he recoils from himself.

“Not enough to give her a chance.”

He kneads hard at the tight spot on his neck. “You make it seem like I fucked up.”

“You did,” Beth says matter-of-factly. “You really fucking did.”

A wave of insecurity washes over him when he slides the key into the lock. Sebastian glances back at Beth and wonders if it’s smart to even bring her here. Even the hallway’s got her a little stunned, her head swiveling around to take it all in. His place hadn’t fazed Aaron. But he’s been working in marketing since college, always hovering a few pay grades than everyone else his age. But if this place is too rich for his blood, he _knows_ that Beth is gonna freak.

And she does, freezing in the doorway. “Fuck.” She says. “This place is…wow.” She swivels to look at him. “How much are you making at this job anyway?” She holds up her hand before he can answer. “No, on second thought, don’t tell me. I want to be able to stay your friend.” Beth quirks up one side of her mouth, but her eyes are distant, like even she doesn’t know if she’s teasing or not.

Sebastian chuckles a little weakly. “Can I get you some water or uh…” His mind drifts to his empty fridge, “water.”

But Beth’s not really paying him that much attention, digging around in her purse. She retrieves a little baggy, flicking it with a smile. The white powder clings to the sides of the plastic. “Want a little pick me up?” Sebastian hesitates, but not for long. He figures it couldn’t hurt. Nothing hurts all that much anymore.

The clock on the oven blinks 4 am when Sebastian lays a blanket over Beth’s sleeping body. He takes a few steps back, hands trembling, skin buzzing. The city lights beyond the window are a single blur. Wrapping his coat around him, he leaves Beth on the couch and heads down the stairs, desperate for fresh air. A light rain has started to fall, a thin sheet of delicate ice forming on the sidewalk. His breath billows out in front of him and he stuffs his hand into his pockets. If Joni were here he’d warm her with them. The coke roaring through him, he’s powerless to stop these thoughts from slamming into him. He always thought she looked especially vulnerable at night. A weakened sun, searching through the darkness for light, for heat. He’d wanted to orbit around her for the rest of his life. Still wants to even if the possibility that he’ll ever even see her again dwindles with each passing day. How can he live like this? How can he be expected to live the rest of his life with this pain?

Sebastian shuts his eyes. Yoba, he’d give anything, _anything,_ for her to be here. His heart aches at the thought of her beside him, just within reach. He’d tell her, whispering softly in her ear, that they should head inside, that it’s too cold to hang around out here any longer. She’d smell sweet and clean and he would slip his thumbs under the hem of her shirt, wanting to feel her bare skin on his, wanting to chase the cold off her with his palms. She brought all the softest parts of him to bear. He hopes the farmhouse is warm enough. She gets so cold at night, shivering beside him, seeking his heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys <3


	13. Bad Behavior*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joni starts to retreat back into old habits but this time she has more to lose.

“I feel trapped,” Joni says, working a laffy taffy with her teeth, “like pretty much all the time these days.” The candy is a little stale now. She bought it half price from Pierre the day after Spirit’s Eve and has been working through it for almost two months.

Joni finishes off that candy and digs around in the bag, finding a handful of pixie sticks that she lays out uniformly on the hardwood. Even the floor is cold these days and Joni recedes deeper into the thick woolen sweater she’s been wearing each evening for days now. The phone cord is freezing wrapped around her skin and every so often, a cold breeze wafts in from the narrow space between the window and the sill. She forgot to winterize them. “Now why do you think that is?” Dr. Rainier is so unflappable that sometimes she sounds bored. It had been another thing Joni had to remember about her when they started weekly phone session a month before. “In what way do you feel trapped?”

Joni rips open a pixie stick and pours the purple sugar into her mouth. She tries to figure out how to word this, but when she speaks, it comes out like she didn’t think about it at all. “I hate it here.”

Dr. Rainier says nothing at first. She likes to give statements room, Joni remembers. “What does ‘here’ mean to you?”

“Pelican Town,” Joni says impulsively. She’s rolled the pixie stick wrapper so tightly that it’s almost sharp. “The farm, I guess.” She lowers her voice like the house might hear, guilt cutting through her.

“Why don’t we dissect that?” Joni doesn’t want to, thinks for a minute about hanging up, pretending the signal cuts out, but it’s easy to start talking. All of this has been sitting right on the surface of her brain.

It’s hard not to start with the greenhouse and Joni worries, as she does, that she’s disproving her own point. Because the greenhouse is amazing. Her flowers are her joy. There is nothing nicer than walking down her verdant rows, the walls slick with condensation, the air inside hot even in the darkest parts of winter. It’s just the rest of the town that’s sucking the life out of her even if she can’t put her finger on exactly why. Even if she’s afraid that this ennui is the residue of Sebastian leaving. That she’s missing some critical part of herself now that she can’t get back. “You’re not helpless.”

Dr. Rainier’s voice makes Joni jump. She glances around the room, wondering how much time she’s been droning on, how much time has passed. “What?”

Joni can hear Dr. Rainier take a sip of her tea across the line. Joni knows it’s tea, remembers the way her office in the hospital always smelled like peppermint leaves. A shock to the senses after days and days in the sterile halls of the rest of the place. Joni shivers at the memory. It was always a little cold in the hospital, almost as cold as here. “You’re a minor character in your own story the way you tell it.” Joni frowns at that, not sure what to make of it. “You talk like you’re powerless over your circumstances. And you’re not anymore.”

Joni shifts on the floor, trying to get comfortable, pulling her crossed feet closer to her pelvis. “Okay.”

“You’re not as stuck as you think you are.”

Joni bites her lower lip. “Okay.”

“That makes you uncomfortable.”

Joni glances at the phone jack, wonders what it would be like to just yank it out of the wall. “I guess so.”

“Do you think it’s maybe time to take a few steps back? To reevaluate your situation.” She’s not going to, knows that right away. Doesn’t even really have to think about it. Because reevaluating on any level will force her to think seriously about Sebastian. Something she’s successfully avoided for nearly five months. Only when she’d masturbate would his face come roaring back to her, his soft touches skittering like ghosts across her skin. Joni hasn’t masturbated in at least a month. “Joni? Are you still there?”

She presses the phone tightly to her cheek. “Sorry. The service isn’t always great out here.”

Joni can’t shake off the call. She tries to keep her mind completely clear, completely empty. It makes her a poor conversation partner as she works beside Shane in the greenhouse that afternoon. She spends most of the day ignoring him, throwing herself into her work. And that’s probably why she misses the signals he’s trying to send her over the dahlias. Probably why she’s so stunned when, as he winds his scarf around his neck at the greenhouse’s door, he asks, offhandedly, if he can stay for a while. Joni pauses, one glove on, the other hanging limply in her other hand. She looks hard at him again. At his newly revealed jaw, his button nose, a little crooked from an old break. His big green eyes. They are worlds apart from Sebastian’s narrow grey eyes. Always considering, always thinking. Soft but just for her. _Just for her._ “Joni?” Shane smiles, cocking his head. He has such open, innocent eyes. Shimmering. Happy. He looks happy.

“Of course,” Joni says, pulling her coat tightly around her, “Of course. It’s too cold for you to go home just now.” She feels outside herself.

“Let me put a pot of coffee on,” Shane says as they’re pulling off their coats and winter boots in the front room.

“Sure,” Joni says, her fingers numb. Maybe from the cold, maybe not. He doesn’t. He leans in and kisses her.

She doesn’t want to look at him. And it’s the first, or at least most obvious, red flag. Joni ignores the uncomfortable prick at the back of her neck and plows through, kissing him hard, letting him fist his hands in her hair even though that feels too familiar, an echo of someone else.

Shane protests a little when she tells him to fuck her on all fours and that’s probably a bad sign too. He’s softer now, that natural sweetness the booze buried back in full force. Joni realizes this might be the first time he’s fucked sober in Yoba knows how many years and her guilt is now multi-layered. He should be with someone else. The thought hits her hard when he kisses her gently on the lips, gives her room to turn over onto her hands and knees. He should be with someone else because she can feel the tenderness wafting off of him and she knows she can’t return it.

Joni’s body jolts. Shane’s found his way between her thighs, his tongue hot and needy against her clit and she feels bottomless, drifting. But she was good at this once, performing, and moans, rocking back against him. Shane smiles against her, holding her thighs tightly, and she feels almost like she could cum like this. She can just forget, just empty her mind, and relax back into the sensation. And she does, pleasure racing up her legs until, all at once, she goes numb.

The room is silent in an instant, like turning out a light. She can feel him working her, see him through her legs, but her brain has split off from her body. Shane slows, taps her gently on the thigh like he’s trying to check in, and Joni remembers to moan. He pauses but then, apparently satisfied, starts again. She wants to cry, feels perilously raw and then she feels nothing at all.

Shane doesn’t seem totally convinced by her performance, asks her twice if she came. She is, worryingly, still numbed out but the slight burn she feels when he slides two fingers inside of her wakes her body up in inches. Suddenly she wants him. But not this Shane, a Shane she used to know. The man who fucked her hard up against the wall in the community center, who shoved his fingers inside her ass without asking. Rough and mean and reckless. And it’s so unfair to him, Yoba it's so unfair to the sweet, soft Shane in bed with her now, but she asks him anyway. And at first, he agrees, wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck and squeezing but he stops almost immediately. “I can’t Joni, I can’t.”

She rolls over and they just look at each other. The night has aged him, his eyes a little harder, a little sadder and she can’t help but feel responsible. “I’m sorry.” And she means it. For everything. For all of this. Shane backs up on the mattress, fly unzipped, shirt in disarray. Joni pulls him quickly back against her. He loses his balance, only just catching himself above her. “Let’s finish.” She whispers in his ear.

Shane pulls back, looking hard at her, eyes searching. “I…you don’t seem like you want to.”

Joni pulls him down on top of her, kisses him hard and fast and sloppy. “Fuck me, please. Please, Shane.” The first thrust hurts. The rest feel like nothing.

They’ve been silent for too long now. Too long for them to brush it off. Just the drip drip drip of the coffee machine and the distant howling of the winter wind outside fills the room. They stand on opposite sides of the sink, leaning up against the counter, facing each other but Joni can only look at the ground. Shane clears his throat and Joni braces herself, chancing a glance up at him. He still looks soft, patient. He looks sad too and Joni wishes he would just leave. Say something biting and go, but instead, he scratches at his neck. “Joni. Is this…is this going anywhere? You and I?”

She swallows hard. “Shane.”

He shakes his head, squinting like he’s in pain. “No, you know what? Don’t say anything. I know. I knew before we fucked.”

“You’re really important to me.” Shane looks up at her, skeptical. “You are. Fuck, you really are. Our friendship is so important to me.”

Shane laughs weakly. “Yeah, same.” He scratches his neck again, looking off toward nothing. “I’ll take what I can get.” Joni’s chest constricts so tightly she can barely breathe.

She watches him go down the path, the front window so caked in ice it obscures his top half, but she can see his breath plume in front of him in the warm evening light. Joni presses her forehead to the glass, so cold it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls forgive me for being this mean to Shane lol. Thank you so much for reading!


	14. Wilting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I know fucking nothing about the actual bridal industry so just suspend your disbelief for me alright?

“Your setup is really great.” The woman isn’t dressed for the weather. Her coat is beautiful, richly embroidered, but it’s too thin for the frigid Valley winter. Her heels clack loudly on the greenhouse’s tile floor and Joni feels a little frumpy dressed in her worn out jeans and hiking boots. She figures though, leading the woman down the verdant rows, that she probably looks the part she’s supposed to be playing.

Joni’s best are on display. They breeze past rows of dusky dahlias, emerging at the end of the row into a patch of bubblegum pink sweet peas. Shane had paid special attention to the cream-colored ranunculus that morning and a rush of guilt hits Joni as she leads the woman along them. She pushes it aside, heading toward the rows of brilliant peonies at the far end of the greenhouse. “So much variety.” The woman says crouching down to take a closer look at one of the peony buds.

“We tend to cycle with the seasons.” Joni says over her shoulder, heading back toward the front of the greenhouse, “but we can grow almost any flower a customer would want. The soil here is…” she pauses, “magical almost.”

“I’ve seen your work at a few of our competitor’s weddings.” She pulls a petal from one of the dahlias. Joni flinches. It feels violent. “And did I see you at a trade show out south of Zuzu this spring?”

“We had a booth there, yeah.” Joni stuffs her hands in her pockets to keep herself from ringing them.

The woman has the sort of pitying, strained smile that tells Joni this is not going even remotely her way. “You have a wonderful eye for arrangement and,” the woman turns to take in the entire greenhouse, “your flowers really are exceptional.” Joni braces herself, waiting for the ‘but’. It comes wrapped in a compliment. “It’s wonderful that you have a whole farm out here, really authentic feeling, but I just…” She adjusts the collar of her coat, revealing a shimmering display of heavy necklaces. She pulls her coat back, the flash gone. Joni tries to stand a little straighter and wonders if all wedding planners are like this. “I don’t think this set up would really work for us. A lot of our brides have weddings out in the country, yes, but they want to be able to go to a shop in town. To have a florist they can visit locally, you know? It gives them a sense of security.”

Joni tries to keep her voice even-tempered even though all she can think about is how close she’s going to be cutting it with her light bill this month. “Yeah, no, I get that. Absolutely.”

The woman’s smile is so condescending it makes Joni’s stomach turn. Devoid of pity yet expectant of it. “I’ll absolutely pass along your business card to some of the other planners in my network. They might be able to send some clients your way.” The woman folds the card in half and tucks it into the embellished pocket of her coat. Sebastian made those business cards, Leah designed them. Joni gets that bottomless feeling again. Hollow as she watches the woman head back to her car.

Joni only realizes that she’s been staring at Leah’s wall when Leah tells her so. She’s making a soup or a pasta sauce or whatever. All Joni can smell is the oil bubbling in the pan. “Sorry,” she says, her voice cottony like she’s coming down with a cold. Maybe she is. Or maybe she just needs to be eating better, sleeping more. Maybe this is just what defeat sounds like.

“So what’s up?”

Joni pauses, running one finger over the lip of her beer. “What do you mean?”

Leah pops her head around the half wall, “I can feel you stewing from here.”

Joni shrugs, wanting to deflect, then thinks better of it. “I didn’t get the contract with that planning company.”

“Shit.” Leah sets her wooden spoon down on the countertop. “What happened?”

“You remember your gallery bullshit? Back in October?” Leah raises an eyebrow. “That’s what happened.” Joni sighs. “If you’re not in the city do you even exist?”

Joni hears Leah turn the stove off. She plops down across from her at the kitchen table. “We need to talk about this.”

Joni pauses, beer poised just at her lips. “Um, what?”

“We can’t keep doing this. Neither of us.”

Joni glances around. “Is this like a breakup, because to be honest, I don’t think I can take any more of those.”

Leah rolls her eyes, can’t completely stifle the grin on her face. But it fades quickly and she frowns. “We can’t stay here.”

“What do you mean?” Joni asks like she doesn’t already know.

“I mean we can’t stay here. This place has served its purpose and now we’ve got to go.”

“What? Just go? I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The farm is my responsibility. I can’t just leave it.”

“So sell it.”

Joni’s stomach pulses. “That farm has been in my family for generations.”

Leah leans over the table, tapping her finger against the wood with each syllable. “You can do whatever you want.” Joni recoils and Leah matches her, settling back in the chair. “I can’t watch you like this. And I can’t be here anymore. My work is totally stagnant. I haven’t sold a piece in months. Haven’t shown anything in longer. And you, _you,_ this place is sucking the life out of you.”

“That’s not true.” Joni holds herself tightly, pushing her back as far as it will go into the back of the chair.

“When’s the last time you sold bulk? And I’m not talking about a few bouquets at the farmer’s market. When’s the last time you did an event? You have to be running out of fucking money.”

Joni stands so quickly, the chair clatters onto the floor. “I’ve gotta go.”

“No,” Leah stands up, “no stop. I’m sorry.” She reaches out, but Joni wriggles out of her grasp hurrying toward the door. “Stay, stay. I’m sorry.”

“I have to go.” The cold hits her like a wall when she opens the door.

Joni comes back the next day, bundled up, some of Evelyn’s blueberry muffins wrapped in parchment and tucked under her arm. An olive branch of sorts, bought half off at Pierre’s. She’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning, wracked with guilt. Mostly because all she wanted to do was leave. Pack her things and never look back.

Joni knocks twice and can hear a commotion inside after the second rap as Leah hurries to the door. She freezes when she sees Joni standing at her door. “Hey,” Leah says, eyeing her from the doorway, “uh, what’s up?”

“Convince me.”

Leah blinks. “What?”

Convince me.” Joni scratches at her collarbone, losing steam. “Convince me to move with you.”

Leah hesitates, eyes darting back and forth. Then, swallowing hard, she moves aside, letting Joni pass into the cabin.

“How long have you been looking at these?” Joni’s bent over Leah’s computer chair, watching as she flips through the apartment listings in the newspaper. Several are circled, some underlined more than once.

Leah shrugs. Her hair is piled on top of her head, secured with a clip. She has a little paint splattered on her neck, acrylic dried on her knuckles. “Probably since late September.”

“That long?” Joni tries to do the mental math, tries to remember where they were in September, what they were doing.

“Yeah,” she looks back at Joni, “what about the farm?”

“I’ll figure it out.” Joni says tightly.

Leah nods, a little tense, turning back to the newspaper. “We should get one with roof access,” she nods back toward Joni, “so you can grow flowers when it’s summer. Get into freelance.”

“What about in winter?”

Leah hesitates. “We can move them inside. Set up the living room or the kitchen or whatever into a makeshift greenhouse.” Then she adds, decisively, “I can keep my studio in my bedroom.” Joni nods vaguely. Her skin is on fire, urgency rushing through her. She’s teetering on the edge, desperate now to move in any direction. Just as long as she’s going. Leah taps one listing that she’s circled in bright pen with the back of her finger. “This is the one. The dream one. Here,” she says, booting up the internet, “they have a website.”

Joni rests her head on Leah’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes at the listing. The text is limited, the photos a little blurry. “What’s so good about it?”

“Everything.” Leah says with a sigh, “I found it a week ago. It’s probably be snapped up already, but...” Joni squints harder, trying to get a better look. “It’s on the top floor of an old building on the west side of town. Used to be the atrium.” It _does_ look like that. Airy, almost precarious. Walls made up of little windows, glass separated by ancient-looking wrought iron. The glass is grimy on the edges, like an old greenhouse. In fact, it looks like an old Victorian terrarium writ large. The kitchen looks old, the bathroom older, but Yoba all that light. Joni thinks of her plants. Thinks of herself, sunning her bare body in front of those windows. “It’s $750 a month.”

Joni jerks backward, meeting Leah’s eyes. “Holy fuck. Could we even afford that?”

Leah looks almost sheepish. “It would be tight. We’d both have to get jobs. Couldn’t just paint or do flowers, you know?”

Joni nods, working the skin around her thumb. “Maybe with the sale of the farmhouse…” Her stomach drops. She feels a little sick. Leah reaches up and squeezes her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading <3


	15. Blindly*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian sinks further into his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short, sad little update. You know, the usual ;)

Sebastian keeps the lights off. He doesn’t know what time it is, just knows that it is dark. Winter slows time, drags the evenings up earlier, the dark sediment of night lurking even at midday. But the city has its own stars, neon so bright and unyielding that it sticks to his skin.

He drops his messenger back just inside the door, toes off his shoes, and then just stands in the darkness of his apartment. It’s been such a long day and his thoughts drift aimlessly the only direction they are wont to go. Toward her.

His refrigerator is empty save some beer and the sparkling water Marianne bought him after he first moved in. What a stupid gift. What a vaguely threatening gift. The refrigerator door clanks when he closes it, glass against glass. The kitchen is full dark now that the fridge is closed and it soothes the ache in his head. Water sprays his fingers when he opens the bottle, disturbed by some unseen force and he pads blindly into his bedroom, taking a few swigs of the stale water before setting it on the ground.

His bed is too soft and it wreaks havoc on his already tight shoulders, but tonight the way it envelops him feels like safety. Sebastian closes his eyes, matching darkness with darkness, and kneads the heels of his hands into his tear ducts. Now, on his back, his thoughts are more vivid. He can almost see the goosebumps racing up her thighs. He can almost feel her skin warming under his touch.

The first time he ever saw Joni fully naked, he’d been surprised by how much he wanted her. The force of an almost adolescent lust. There was so much he wanted to do to her, with her. Infinite possibilities. He’d traced down the curve of her thigh, running his thumb toward the tuft of downy hair at the apex of her thighs. It was so easy to kiss her hipbones, an instinct, natural as breathing.

Sebastian fumbles with the button of his jeans, opening his eyes to find still more muted darkness, the soft glow from the neighboring apartment building spilling dully across his bed. There was something so vulnerable about her the first time they fucked. Really fucked. Not the hurried, frantic rutting they’d done after that night at Leah’s place. But the first time he’d been able to take his time, to lay her out on her bed, to take a long look at her. She’s been so pliable that night and he’d felt a sudden swell of responsibility. Like she’d do anything he asked, like he needed to be so careful what he asked her for.

Sebastian unzips his jeans and cants his hips so he can ease them down his thighs. The first time Joni let him make her squirt, he’d felt overwhelming tenderness, like nothing he’d ever experienced. The way she’d shied away from him at first, embarrassed, then eased into the sound of his voice, letting him work her.

Sebastian groans, throwing his head back. He runs his thumb along his foreskin, moving up to swipe the pad over the narrow slit at the tip of his cock. Yoba, the sound when Joni finally came like that, _shit_ , even the memory makes his cock twitch. She’d squirted so much, a rush of it trailing down his fingers and she’d let out a choked, almost frantic, cry. Her arms gave out and he’d guided her gently to the floor. She’d whined, high and desperate, just for him. And Yoba when she let him do it again. She’d let him hold her up and that swell of responsibility rushed up again. 

Sebastian raises his hips off the bed to thrust into his fist, the raw friction almost painful. He remembers the way she looked at him when he asked to fuck her in the ass. Hesitance melting so quickly and easily into curiosity, into longing. She’d trusted him with so much. More than he even knew in the beginning and he remembers the way the floor had dropped out from under him when he finally did know. He had laid awake beside her, looking over at her face, trying not to imagine the horrible things she’d had done to her. He had a special reverence for her after he knew, dragging the pads of his fingers down her ribs, kissing across the smooth plane of her hips. _Thank you,_ he’d tried to say with his fingers, his lips, _for letting me touch you at all._

What a thing he’d destroyed. Pissed all over the world they’d built in each other and for what?. He remembers her face that morning, vivid unlike any other memory, and it was so open. She was listening, really listening to him. Why did he think she would let him fall? Why didn’t he just trust her? He releases himself almost violently, his hands flying to his face in frustration. His cock is quickly limp, stuck to his thigh. He covers himself with his blanket and then, pulling himself up into a fetal position, he starts to cry.

“You love her, don’t you? Still?” Sebastian frowns, settling sullenly back into his armchair. Aaron cocks his head, looking somewhere between teasing and maybe honest to god worried. “You don’t have to answer that. I already know.” Sebastian scoffs, picking his slice of pizza apart on the plate in his lap. “You light up on the inside when you talk about her.”

Sebastian scowls, boring a hole into his pizza. It’s cold now, cheese congealed and slippery. They’ve been picking at the box for a few hours. Aaron brought it, of course. Coming over after Sebastian pleaded over the phone. He couldn’t stand to be alone. The week’s been too long, the apartment too empty.

Aaron cut himself a couple lines of coke before they even starting eating, but Sebastian couldn’t stomach the idea, sinking instead into a six-pack of beer. Sebastian cracks open the last of it and takes a long pull. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You haven’t been able to stop talking about it so I _assume_ you thought it would matter to me.” Sebastian fidgets, nostrils flaring. Aaron sniffs at one of Sebastian’s empty beer cans and grimaces, smirking. “I think we’re friends, don’t you?”

“It’s really none of your business.” Sebastian quickly ads, “even as my friend.” He shifts in his seat. “Anyway, I asked you over to cheer me up.”

“Yeah, you still love her.” Sebastian looks at him darkly, “otherwise it wouldn’t hurt to talk about her.”

“Who says it hurts?”

Aaron cocks his head, eyes narrowing softly. Something that would look like pity on anyone else. “You do. With every move you make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	16. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more, the Valley clears Joni’s path.

The cold bleeds through her gloves, her fingers aching from the chill. Joni shifts where she’s crouched, hands tented in front of her. The grove is still frigid, but it’s warmer than the rest of the farm like the grave is putting off its own energy. _The grave._ Joni shits again, nervous this time, sure that the grave has noticed her, is watching her curiously. Or maybe angrily. She opens one eye to make sure nothing has appeared in front of her. It’s just the grave, but the air is thick and Joni doesn’t dare look behind her. All the hairs on her neck stand at attention and she listens like she’s been listening for months, for Elliot’s familiar footsteps. There’s only the soft call of birds, but he’s marked this farm. She can’t deny that. Another pain. Joni’s eyelids flutter closed again and she sits up a little straighter. Back to her original purpose. “Hey Yoba, it’s uh, it’s me.” Joni pauses like she expects it to answer. She exhales, almost embarrassed. “Long time no talk, huh?”

The dream brought her here, she can take no credit on her own. It had been abstract, but she’d gotten the message loud and clear. She was alone in it, palpably alone, standing nowhere she could recognize. But she knew, with the easy logic of dreams, that the farm was gone, paved over and all the things she’d loved, all the people she cared about, were gone too. Obvious hyperbole even if it was a premonition, but it’s stuck in her brain and every time she closes her eyes, that dry, empty earth rises up to meet her.

Joni’s eyes fly open again. This time she does look behind her, almost surprised to see only snow and dense trees. Her breath billows cold out in front of her. Her lips are cracked, cold where her saliva has touched them. She looks back and the grave looks almost warm, like it might chase the chill from her fingers if she touched it. So she does, finds it hot like a person. It should make her recoil. It doesn’t. Joni leans her head against its smooth surface, traces her mother’s name. Traces the date of her death. Can she leave her again? Now that she’s just found her. Her fingers have gone numb. Yoba hasn’t answered, but the ground does. The grave is silent. The whole farm is silent. Like it’s angry with her. “I can’t,” she says quietly, “I can’t. I can’t.”

The silence is thick between them in the greenhouse that afternoon. Even the humid warmth of the flower beds can’t keep the chill from their bones. Winter’s last stand before spring’s final advance. More than half the beds are empty. Joni hadn’t been able to afford new seeds even after selling off more than two dozen bouquets to a grocery store two towns over. _Hear money’s in weddings,_ the buyer had told her almost apologetically when he halved his original order. She must have looked stricken because he’d shrugged, backtracking, _that’s just what I heard, at least._

The air is so heavy, so full of vague dread, that when Shane clears his throat, Joni jumps, startled. He looks at her almost tenderly and Joni averts her eyes. “You still selling?”

Ah, yes, _this_ conversation. She should have expected it. Joni had mentioned it off-handedly days ago, that she and Leah were looking at apartments, that she might not need Shane around the greenhouse anymore. He’d gone eerily quiet, left a little early that day. Something about Jas. Something about Marnie. Muttered excuses that hit her clean in the chest. Joni sighs and looks back up at him. “I don’t know.”

Shane perks up immediately and Joni almost recoils. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Joni turns back to her work, frowning, unnamed emotions rising up in her. ‘Why? Because I’m staying in town?”

Shane scoffs. “Don’t give yourself that much credit, Joni. I just like working in the greenhouse.”

She turns slowly to look at him, just the ghost of a grin on her face. “Yeowtch. Tell me how you really feel, Shane.”

“Hey,” he says, leveling his trowel at her, “you’re the one who put the kibosh on that.” 

Joni sighs heavily. “To be fair, I like having you work in the greenhouse too.” They both fall silent, staring out at the flowers, at the empty beds.

Shane’s the one who breaks it. “This place is important to me, you know?”

“Pelican Town?”

“No, your farm.” He smiles softly to himself, dreamily. “The work I’ve done here is the first sober work I’ve done in my whole adult life.”

Joni sighs and pulls of her gloves, leaning back against one of the beds to face him. “I mean, shit, I needed you. I couldn’t have gotten this up and running without you.”

He glances away, almost sheepish. “You would have figured it out.”

Joni laughs, her first honest to god laugh in so long. “I don’t know about that.”

Joni puts the kettle on, watches Shane watching her from the kitchen table. She’s not sure how he ended up back here, but she’s glad for the company as the sun sets coldly on the horizon. The radiator rattles as Joni pours the steaming water into mugs and, again, Shane is the one who breaks the heavy silence. “You really love him, don’t you?”

Joni freezes, kettle heavy in her hand. They weren’t even talking about Sebastian. She wasn’t even _thinking_ about him. But the question is to barbed for her deflect. Her eyes flutter closed and she breathes deep and long. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” She turns to look at him. “I’m sorry that you love him.”

Joni laughs a little bitterly. “That might be the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He shrugs, frowning. “So, what are you going to do?”

Joni sets Shane’s mug in front of him with a heavy thud and backs up to lean against the counter, warming her hands with the tea. “I don’t know.”

Shane chews his lip, bouncing one foot crossed over the other. His words come out in a rush, like he’s trying not to lose his nerve. “Rent it to me.”

Joni blinks at him. “What?”

“How much do you want a month. I don’t make bad money at Joja, I can pay whatever you want.”

She stutters. “For what?”

“The farm.”

Her eyes dart around the room, landing finally on Shane, sitting expectantly at her table, his tea steaming in front of him. “Are you being serious right now?” He nods, like he too can’t really believe what he’s saying. “Holy yoba, I have no fucking clue.” She tries to flip through the math of her life, but her brain is going quickly blank. “Um, five hundred? Is that…fair?” She shakes her head, pressing two fingers to her temples. “I’m sorry, wait, hold up. I mean do you even…can you even work on a farm?”

Shane laughs. “Those are fighting words from a city girl like you.” Joni laughs again, incredulous. “I grew up on a ranch, Joni. Spent almost my whole life in the country. I can keep the place in good shape.”

“Okay, sure, but why would you want to?”

Shane shrugs. “I ain’t ever getting out of Pelican Town. And I don’t really want to, but I can’t live with my aunt forever right? And shit,” he looks off to the side, “it’s not like I can move in above the clinic or whatever. And I sure as shit don’t have the money to buy my own land.” He looks back at her, almost pleading. “I really like the place.” He averts his eyes again, like he’s embarrassed to admit it. “You know that. It’s so peaceful up here.” He pauses, his voice more urgent when he next speaks. “This is my respite. From my shitty job, from all my bad memories. I’ll take the _best_ care of this place.”

Joni swallows hard. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

He chuckles, looking sheepish again. “Uh, honestly? Maybe an hour. It just…occurred to me, standing in the greenhouse. Like, I don’t know, like magic.”

A tiny prick at the base of Joni’s neck reminds her. “You should know…there’s an altar. Out back…”

“The grave?”

Joni wavers, narrowing her eyes at him. “How did you-“

“I’ve lived here a long time.” He nods, mostly to himself. “I’ll look after it. I promise.” Those sweet eyes of his. Those sweet green eyes, so open and gentle and honest. She crosses the distance, tea forgotten on the counter, and pulls him up into a tight hug. For a moment, he doesn’t move, then hugs her back, holding her close, resting his chin on her scalp. Joni starts to cry, relief rushing through her. “You don’t know what you’re doing for me, Shane. You have no idea what this means to me.”

He pets her hair, a smile forming easily on his lips. “I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading guys! We're wrapping up this work and heading quickly towards what (I think?) will be the final part of this series. It's gonna be loooong, but a lot less angsty!


	17. Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian makes another impulsive decision, but will this be the right one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol yes this is the second update today. I'm a little obsessed.

_This is going to be the rest of your life._ The thought rolls over him as he finally wrestles a tricky line of code into obedience. The pleasure melting immediately into intense loneliness, something edging up to terror. Sebastian turns off his monitor, his reflection flashing in the blackness before he turns away. He spins a little in his chair, raking his fingers through his hair. The air had a feeling in it that morning, as he walked to work. So familiar and so out of place as he wound his way through the crowds of people, the bleating of car horns only just muted by his thick knit cap. It had reminded him of cool mornings on the farm, so palpable he closed his eyes, half expecting to wake up in Joni’s bed, to roll over and feel her beside him. It left him raw and maybe that’s why this new rush of loneliness isn’t something he can just shake off.

Sebastian swivels again in his chair, looking out the window. He watches as the mid-morning fog greys the harbor, the blinking lights of the fishing boats barely cutting through it.

It doesn’t get as cold here as in the Valley. Not even close. No wonder it had been so hard for Joni to adjust. That first winter had been so frigid. He should be thankful for it though. It was that frigid weather that given the opportunity to kiss her. _Yoba_. He wipes his eyes with his palms. It’s hard not to think about her. His minds drifts to her every day. More than once, more than he can even count. Sebastian’s now thoughts drift, oddly, to his father and the sudden wrenching desire to call him, to ask him, man to man, what the fuck he should do.

What would his father think of the man he is now? If he returned suddenly to life, he wouldn’t recognize his own son if they passed each other on the street. It’s a special, quiet grief for those who lost their parents young. All that stolen time, all those paths closed off forever. He and Joni used to wonder, as they lay together in the dark, how different they would be if grief hadn’t cut a clean line through them. If his father and her mother would have done something in those years they missed that would have changed something intrinsic in them. He’d never been able to talk about grief like he had with Joni and it opened up new, bright space inside of him to finally find the words and the person who would understand them.

Yoba, _Joni._ He can’t live the rest of his life like this. He can’t live another second like this.

Aaron’s on the phone when Sebastian appears in the doorway of his office. He quirks up a questioning eyebrow, but Sebastian just shakes his head. Aaron swivels to face his window, holding up two fingers to Sebastian, lowering his voice to finish the call.

“You alright, man?” Aaron asks, swiveling back to look at him.

Sebastian raps his knuckles on the doorframe. “You got a minute?”

The wind has blown the sharp scent of salt and fish from the harbor over to the sidewalk where Sebastian is pacing. Aaron’s leaned up against the office building’s reflective glass, watching him. “It’s a good idea,” Aaron says. Sebastian shakes his head, gaze glued to the sidewalk. “I mean it couldn’t hurt, right?” Aaron adds, nodding to a few suited men on the way into the building, then turning his attention immediately back to the sullen, smoking figure in front of him.

Sebastian stops his pacing, looking up at him. “Really?” Aaron shrugs. The pacing resumes.

“I mean you’ve got PTO, right?” Sebastian nods, slowing his steps. “So go. Go see. Go have a conversation. Worst case scenario, you come back with your tail tucked between your leg. But at least then you’ll know for sure.”

Even the idea of that is painful, but Sebastian’s mind is made up, rushing forward, his body buzzing with urgency. He tosses his half-smoked cigarette into a frigid puddle. The hiss rising with the steam.

Sebastian barges into Marianne’s office without knocking, surprising himself, planting his feet firmly, nervously, in front of her desk. “Next time, knock.” She says stiffly, not yet glancing up from her paperwork. Her face changes when she sees that it’s him, shifting back into that light amusement she always wears for him. “Oh! Sebastian, hello.”

“My father died.” It comes out of his mouth of its own volition. and he’s shocked that he said it. Then, he just wants to laugh. _Sure, why not._ Might as well get something from that nightmare even if it’s two decades overdue. Marianne lays a hand over her heart. A rare slip from her, a rare moment that she hasn’t calculated. Sebastian doubles down. “My father passed away. This morning. I just heard.”

She stands, closing the distance between them with a few quick strides. Sebastian goes rigid to keep himself from flinching away. “Oh, you poor thing. Was it sudden?”

“Very.”

She lays her hand on his shoulder. Sebastian’s nose twitches, mouth pulling into a tight frown. “What do you need from me?” Her tone is cloying.

He clears his throat, trying to keep his thoughts steady. “My mother will…need help around the property. I’ll need to go back and help her arrange things.” He holds his breath, a silent prayer on his lips. “For maybe two weeks.”

He expects resistance, but she just nods. Sebastian hates the way she’s looking at him, that feigned pity. Overexaggerated to the point of cruelty. “Yes, of course, of course.” She glances back at her desk. “I’ll expect you to still be working on the project.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll stay in touch via email. Let’s see how that rig you have back in that little town performs, hmm?” She squeezes his bicep. “Call any time.”

“What’s the word?” Aaron says, leaning on Sebastian’s doorframe.

Sebastian looks up from packing his messenger back. “Out of here.”

Aaron grins. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

He claps Sebastian on the back. “Go get her, man.”

Sebastian nods, his hands shaking. “I’ll call, okay?” He rushes past Aaron. “I’ll call.”

He can’t stay still on the train home. The people and the sounds and the smells all a blur. He bounces his knees, hands clasped between them. He’ll take I-80 out. _Yeah, that’ll be best._ It’s the fastest way back to Pelican Town and if he really rides hard, he can make it to the farmhouse before sundown. He’s gonna figure this out. He’s gonna do what he should have done all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, you guys <3


	18. Two Exits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joni embraces a new path and Sebastian's plan falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it possible to be in too deep with your own story lol? Was not expecting to update three times today (and counting) but here we are.   
> Thank you so much for coming along with me on this angsty, mostly smut free journey. I am frankly shocked (and so happy!) that y’all are still here. I promise what I have in store next for these two will be much less angsty. Think hurt +big time comfort. I hope you’ll stick with me <3.

Her stuff doesn’t really look like all that much piled in the trunk of Leah’s old station wagon. Just a few boxes of books, her clothes, a couple keepsakes from the farmhouse. She’s leaving most of the furniture for Shane. He’d helped them load up the car and now Joni turns back to find him watching them from the porch, drinking the last of a pot of coffee he made when they started a few hours ago. Leah’s on official Goose wrangling duty, trying to entice him into the carrier they borrowed from Marnie. Joni can hear her cooing at him from the cracked front window.

It’s the first warm day since November, the sun out in full force. The whole farm feels damp as the ice and snow melts into dark, loamy earth. Joni pulls her coat a little tighter around her and walks out into the field. She takes a long hard look at the hills that roll down toward the river, out into the dense forest. It’s beautiful even in the gray of early spring. What a refuge it was, what a safe place to land. “Onward and upward,” Leah calls from the car, slamming the back door shut when she tucks the carrier down behind the driver’s seat.

“Onward and upward,” Joni agrees when Leah walks up to stand beside her.

Leah wraps her arm around Joni’s shoulders and their heads touch, leaning together. The touch is so soothing, so nice. “It’s beautiful,” Leah says, smiling down toward the river.

“It is.”

Leah turns to Joni, squeezing her shoulder. “You ready to go?”

Joni smiles, her gaze drifting back toward the greenhouse and the grove behind. The farm feels quiet, settled. She feels, for the first time in a long time, excited. “Yeah, I’m ready to go.”

“Don’t worry,” Shane says, coming up behind them with his hands in his pockets, “I’ll keep the place safe.” She and Leah separate, Leah nodding toward Shand and heading back toward the car. Shane crosses his arms over his chest and takes a few steps toward Joni. Their breath billows out and meets between them. “You need any more help?”

“Nah, thank you though.”

Shane nods, looking off-center. “I mean it, I’m gonna take care of this place.” 

“I know.” Joni wavers, then pulls him into a tight hug. Shane flinches a little before settling into it. “Take care of yourself.” She tells him, voice muffled against his coat.

“Back at ya.”

Joni pulls away, taking him in. “I will. I promise.” She squeezes both his arms. “I’ll give you a call as soon we get the phone set up.”

Shane smiles a little shyly. “Yeah, yeah.”

Joni pats him gently on the cheek. “Thank you. For all of this.”

Goose has settled on Joni’s lap, content to watch the landscape speed by. Joni’s keen to watch it too, leaning back in her seat as the forest blurs into a long, green smudge below the endless gray sky. To leave feels like heartbreak and it feels like joy and the feelings are so intense that she feels blindly for Leah’s hand and holds it tightly, needing to feel someone else there with her. Leah squeezes and Joni lets her eyes slip closed. That old residue from the city before she left is lingering, but it’s like a smudge, barely visible. What’s unfolding in front of her in her mind’s eye is so bright it nearly envelops her, warm like the afternoon sun. She can see a roof full of greenery, can see her flowers all over the city. “Are you nervous,” Leah asks as they drive over an old bridge, the car shuddering as it goes over planks.

“Yeah,” Joni glances at her, “aren’t you?”

“Yes, but…” Leah squeezes her hand tighter, “we have each other.” Joni settles back in her seat, running her fingers through Goose’s fur. That’s right, they do have each other.

The sun has started to set by the time they crest the overpass, skyscrapers coming into view, the harbor dark and endless behind them. The city spreads wide in front of them, glittering and vibrant. Joni can feel it’s energy and it feels, like the Valley had all those months before, like coming home. Or rather, it feels like she’s taking her home back, wrenching it from the grasp of all those dark memories. Joni rolls the window down and breathes in the city’s smell. The cigarette smoke and wet concrete. That metallic smell that she hadn’t even realized she’d missed. Seas of people parting around them, each heading somewhere different, somewhere new.

* * *

Sebastian arrives just after dark to what, at first glance, looks like an empty house. He tries to ignore the thick dread that settles in his chest and kills the bike beside the mailbox. The reflection in his helmet startles him. He looks exhausted and scrapes his hair back, hoping to look at least a little presentable for her. The deep breath he tries to take catches in his throat.

Sebastian had hours to try and figure out what he wanted to say, but his brain was frighteningly blank on the ride over and now, in front of this house that had grown to mean so much, he feels tiny and very young.

He swings off his bike and does a quick once over of the house. Everything looks pretty much like he left it. It’s too early for Joni to be asleep and Sebastian tries not to panic. Surely if something had happened, someone would have noticed. Leah or Emily or, hell, even his mom. The steps sag under his weight as he climbs them toward the front door. He wants to press his face to the window to get a better look but thinks better of it. Nothing would quite undermine what he’s trying to do than scaring her. And after Elliot, he can’t think of anything scarier than finding an unexpected man lurking outside.

So he knocks, once, twice. His anxiety growing with each minute of silence. Goose should be pawing at the window by now. The tv should be on. “Hey.” Sebastian jumps, turning quickly around to face the porch steps. At the bottom stands Shane, hands stuffed in his pockets. “When’d you get back in town?”

“What are you doing here?”

Shane looks a little off-center and scoffs. He’s lost a lot of weight, Sebastian realizes, looks a _lot_ better than the last time they saw each other. “I live here now.”

Sebastian’s stomach plummets. He nearly vomits. He thinks seriously about throwing a fucking punch. His voice is thin, almost menacing. “Where’s Joni?”

“She moved.”

At first, it’s a relief to hear that she isn’t here shacking up with Shane, but then the reality of what he’s said sinks in. “What?” Sebastian pushes off from the door, walking to the top step. “What did you say?”

“She, uh, she and Leah moved. A week or so ago, actually.”

“You’re kidding me.” Shane shrugs. He’s got a dark look in his eyes, bordering on hostile. “You have to be fucking kidding me.” Sebastian starts to pace, gripping his hair hard by the scalp. He stops, looking pleading at Shane. “Where? Where did they move.” Shane purses his lips, like he’s trying to decide whether or not to tell him. Sebastian raises his voice, looming now over the smaller man. “Where!?”

“Zuzu, now back the fuck up.”

Sebastian does, suddenly aware of himself. He rubs his temples. “Sorry, I…Zuzu?” A wave of vertigo washes over him and he fumbles for one of the porch’s pillars for support. “She moved to Zuzu?” She’d been so much closer than he thought. Just within his reach.

“Yeah,” Shane says, taking a few steps back. He clears his throat. “Your mom know you’re in town?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the third part of this series!


End file.
